


my love don't cost a thing

by Jsscshvlr



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Escorts to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex first feelings later, as slow a burn as jess can handle... which isn't that slow, sex work is work and in this au we accept that thankyou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/pseuds/Jsscshvlr
Summary: May has asked him a few times how long he’s likely to be an escort for - knowing that as respectful as she is about sex work being work - it doesn’t make it any easier for him to find a partner. Especially as his double life already makes that significantly harder. If he’s being truthful he’s not sure - he’d be happy to quit the second he found someone he might even consider wanting to date. He just hasn’t found anyone. He’s not he’s going to anytime soon.He flounders halfway down the corridor when he hears the elevator come to a stop at his floor and he’s momentarily annoyed that he didn’t hear it come up. The doors open with a ding and he watches as it all happens in slow motion. Her head lifts from where she was looking at her phone - she catches his gaze and looks away putting her phone in her bag. She can’t be there for him, right? He’s never been this lucky before.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 111
Kudos: 107





	1. don't hesitate to buy my love

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to me and me only with this fic thank you x

He’s running up the stairs - praying that his appointment isn’t early so he can throw some more deodorant on and run a hand through his hair. Becoming an escort wasn’t his first career choice straight out of college but it is working for him. He can fit appointments around his patrol schedule - and more often than not can get someone to cover for him if he needs to drop out suddenly. Not like, mid appointment, that’s rude. But he’s pretty good at his job - so if the alarm ever does go off, he can get them there and have them satisfied in the time it takes the police to meet him at the scene of the crime.

Slowing to a walk as he nears the corridor for room 106, he uses his enhanced hearing to note that there is no one waiting outside - and they can’t get in the room without him. So he calms down a little bit. Quickly looking at his watch he notes it’s exactly eight and he sighs with relief. He laughs at the icon that says May has messaged him about bringing eggs home - he doesn’t even live with her anymore. He’ll do it though.

When he first told May she was a little shocked but tried to hide it - she’s never been the most subtle. He was comfortable telling her and his two closest friends, Ned and Harry because he knew there would be no judgement - may be a little concern if he was being safe but that’s about it. 

May has asked him a few times how long he’s likely to be an escort for - knowing that as respectful as she is about sex work being work - it doesn’t make it any easier for him to find a partner. Especially as his double life already makes that significantly harder. If he’s being truthful he’s not sure - he’d be happy to quit the second he found someone he might even consider wanting to date. He just hasn’t found anyone. He’s not he’s going to anytime soon.

He flounders halfway down the corridor when he hears the elevator come to a stop at his floor and he’s momentarily annoyed that he didn’t hear it come up. The doors open with a ding and he watches as it all happens in slow motion. Her head lifts from where she was looking at her phone - she catches his gaze and looks away putting her phone in her bag. She can’t be there for him, right? He’s never been this lucky before. 

She steps out of the elevator, lights on the walls reflecting against the white material of her dress. She walks gracefully, with purpose and when she looks up again her bare shoulders shine in the bright overhead lights of the hotel. It’s unreasonable for someone to look like she does right now, given the harsh lighting conditions and ugly carpet.

She raises her eyebrow slightly when she looks at him - it’s adorable and sexy - and he notes he hasn’t moved since she got off the elevator and he probably seems increasingly creepy. He clears his throat, grips both of his hands on his backpack and goes to walk to room 106. He can put her out of his mind, he  _ needs  _ to put her out of his mind.

He walks with purpose, trying to stop glancing at her - especially when she stops midway down the corridor. He doesn’t notice he’s heading straight for her because she’s spending all his time trying not to think about her. 

“Oh, hi.” He stutters when he gets to 106 and she’s leaning against the wall next to the door. 

“Hey.” She says with a small smile. Huh, she’s his appointment? Has he ever been this lucky before? He should check, right? He’s not in the position to judge, nor does he want too. And sure, he usually has attractive men and women at his door - both in and out of work but no one on her level. He’s not even sure he’s ever seen someone as beautiful as her. 

“So…” she says while looking at the door. Holy shit. 

“Yeah, right. Sorry.” He says with a definite blush. As he turns to put the key card in the door he swears he sees her smirk. He used to heavy flirting, and often awkward slightly shy people - but he’s not sure how to cope with someone like her. 

Opening the door he decides it’s one night, not even a full night, although he’s not gonna complain if she wants - no. This is a job, as per usual, he can’t be thinking anything that he wouldn’t usually be thinking, not just because she’s stunning. 

“I’m just gonna -” he points to the bathroom and walks in, closing the door before she has a chance to respond. He hears her snicker outside though and it’s a delightful sound. He makes quick work of splashing himself with water and throwing some extra deodorant on. He slaps himself around this face and then stifles down his groan at forgetting about his strength. Oh well, the red mark will have gone by the time he gets outside. 

Taking a deep breath he opens the door and is overwhelmed by how much this room smells like her. Her perfume or just her, he’s not sure. But he’s immediately turned on. She’s sat at the edge of the bed, one leg over the other and leaning back on her hands. He gulps and places his backpack on the floor near the bed. 

“So, I’m Peter.” He says holding his hand out. Her eyes shine with humour but she sits back up straight and offers her hand back - shaking it as if they’re business partners. 

“Mary Jane.” She with a small smirk and he’s pretty sure she’s lying to him. “You can call me MJ, though.” 

“MJ.” He repeats like a fool. 

“Peter.” She repeats like his name is meant for her.

“You look really pretty.” 

She bites her lip like she’s holding back from saying something or laughing, she choices the former, “Thank you. You look pretty too.” He beams at her. 

Taking this newfound confidence he grabs her hands to pull her up, but she puts her hands against his chest before his lips can meet hers and for the first time she looks unsure, “I don’t want to be kissed - is that - okay?” Sure he’s a little disappointed because her lips look insanely soft but he doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable - already hating this look of nervousness she has about her. 

“Yeah sure, of course. Any other requests?” He says seriously because for as long as he’s been in this profession, which honestly is not that long - he’s never had a bad review. And sure, not kissing someone might make it slightly more difficult to get in the mood, but she’s insanely attractive so he’s not too worried. But he also wants her to enjoy herself - that’s why he’s here. 

“Nope.” She says with a pop and a slight smile. She doesn’t seem nervous anymore, especially for someone that said it was there first time doing this on her request form - but he’s not here to make judgements. Especially not when he’s extremely nervous. He doesn’t usually have these barriers against him when trying to get someone off - but he’s always liked a challenge. 

“So - do you want - should I?” He stutters out while pointing to her clothes. She laughs a little but it doesn’t seem malicious and it lessens the nervousness rolling around in his stomach. 

“I got it, don’t worry.” She says casually as she goes to toe her shoes off and undoes the button on her dress. Her gaze dropping to the task at hand and then back to him from under her lashes makes him gulp and blush and not for the first time that evening, he feels like he looks foolish. 

He goes to undo his shirt while thinking of ways to make this good for her. Maybe she has her thoughts? She seems to have a thorough list (okay so not kissing her face isn’t exactly a long list) of what she doesn’t want - so maybe she has a list of what she likes? 

He throws his shirt on the ground while he hears her fold her clothes and put them on the dresser - he could look up at her to check but he’s still running through the possible things he could do to her, without making her uncomfortable. He yanks his boxers down with his trousers, remembering to pull his socks off at the same time. 

When he’s stark naked he looks up at her and his gaze is fixated on the way her teeth pulled at her bottom lip - it turns him on enough to be at least semi-hard in front of her. His eyes drop to her body and he’s mortified because she’s indescribably stunning and also still in underwear. 

“I thought you might wanna take it off - but I can do it?” She asks with a gleam to her eye and he curses himself again for being an idiot. He does manage to shake his head and gestures for her to sit down. He’s out of his depth because usually, he’s very good at this - if he says so himself. And he just needs to get back into the right mindset. It’s a job, a job he’s great at. Nerves to the back. 

He pushes her back against the mattress softly, unsure of where to look. 

“Let me know if you want me to stop or anything to change okay?” He says lightly running his fingers along her collarbone. 

“Yeah.” She says breathlessly, which spurs him on. Adjusting slightly he runs his fingers back over her shoulder, tracing the lacey black strap of her bra - lightly ghosting over the swell of her breast and back again. She sighs quietly and closes her eyes. He’s unfairly turned on. 

“You can - kiss other parts of me if you want.” 

“Oh? Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She laughs softly at him and opens her eyes and it’s like he’s looking into the warmest brown eyes he’s ever seen. 

“I’m sure.” He lowers his head in response - attempting to start neutral in a neutral territory he kisses her shoulder lightly. He moves his lips slowly from her shoulder up to the juncture between that and her neck, revelling inwardly as she lets out a sigh. He moves to between her legs, feeling more comfortable now he’s slightly hidden as he kisses under her jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says between sucking on her pulse point and licking the bruise he leaves behind. 

“You don’t - hnnh - have to say that just because -” she moves her hands to lightly rest at the back of his neck and he never knew he was missing something until she touched him. 

“You being beautiful is not a line -” he says trailing his lips lightly over to her lace covered nipple “- it’s not a lie -” his tongue darts out to lick the lace and he grips the sheet next to her as she grinds her hips into him, “- and it’s certainly not shocking. You’re distractingly beautiful.” He says pulling the cup of her bra down slowly, giving her enough chance to change her mind if she likes - she doesn’t. 

Pulling her nipple into his mouth he’s rewarded with her breathy moans, and he’s not sure why he was ever nervous. As if this whole encounter might be difficult as if he wasn’t turned on the second the elevator doors opened. 

“You don’t -” she gasps as he runs his thumb softly over her still covered breast “- seem distracted.” He hums around her and let’s go with a pop. Looking up at her he’s mesmerised by the parting of her lips, the way her eyes flutter to stay closed.

“I’m very good at my job.” He says and immediately regrets it. He’s not sure why - they both know why he’s here, they both know this isn’t a date - they don’t know each other. But still, he doesn’t want her to be reminded that he’s only here for one thing when he’s not entirely sure it’s true. If he met her anywhere else he’d be falling over his feet to ask her out - knowing that there is no way he’s in her league. 

“That’s why they sent you I guess.” She says and he can’t place the tone. He’s only known her for twenty minutes - he doesn’t even know her real name. There’s something about her that he’s desperate to know. He can’t decide if it’s what she looks like when she comes, or what her favourite breakfast food is. Maybe it’s both. 

He shakes himself out of those thoughts - he’s a professional, he’s here to do a job and right now he’s just laying on her. So he kisses her neck quickly, moving down the long expanse of bare skin as he reaches under her to unclasp her bra. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers while placing kisses to her sternum. She hums at him, but he needs verbal consent so he flicks his eyes to her and  _ God  _ she’s pretty. She rolls her eyes but he thinks it’s fond, “yes, Peter.” He finds himself grinding against the mattress at her sultry tone - he thinks she knows how she affects him. 

He pulls her bra off of her and goes to throw it on the floor - then remembers how she folded all her clothes neatly. So quickly places one cup in the other and leans off her to place it with her other clothes - then quickly resuming his trail down her body. If she’s annoyed at his quick detour she doesn’t mention it. 

He reaches the top of her underwear and is suddenly struck with nerves - how does she want it? Will she like it? Will she like him? The latter shouldn’t matter on a personal level as long as she gets off. There have been various people he’s slept with that don’t come back - it’s never bothered him before. 

He feels her hand hover near the side of his face, lightly brushing his temple with her fingers, “are you okay?” she asks, bottom lip between her teeth. He places a kiss to her palm and his eyes widen significantly more than hers, but he does note the uptick in her heartbeat. He hopes he hasn’t made her feel uncomfortable. He’s like ninety-four percent sure she’d tell him.

“Yes. Yeah - sorry. Erm, how do you want it?” He replies playing with the edge of her pants. He moves back as she leans on her arms to look at him. Her brows are furrowed and he’s struck with how badly he wants to know if they look like that when she comes. If she bites her lip in the same devastatingly attractive way she did earlier. 

“Just because this is like -” she flounders as if she’s not sure what to say, “- if you don’t want to that’s okay. I’m not mad. I can go.”

He’s touched by her thoughtfulness - knowing that for as sure of himself as he is - there’s always the thought that he might not want to go through with an appointment. He’s lucky it’s never happened to him before - and he hopes if it ever does he has someone like her. Someone kind and understanding. 

He lifts himself with his hands, inwardly cheering as she stares at his arms. Reaching a hand behind her neck he pulls himself to her - remembering what she said about kissing her, he ducks to press his lips beneath her ear.

“I want this.” He whispers into her ear. “If you want this -” he places open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, lightly gripping the side of her throat as she sighs “- I really want this.”

“Yeah, I want this.” She replies quietly running her hand along his ribs making his breath catch in his throat. 

“How do you want it?” He says moving down her body again. Her breathe catches as he grazes his teeth over nipple lightly on his way down and he smiles against her. All his sexual encounters are good, great even. But there’s something about her that makes him feel insane. He’s barely touched the surface of how to make her feel good, how he can feel good - and he’s ecstatic that he has the chance too. 

“Shouldn’t you decide?” She says and he thinks it’s supposed to be snarky but it’s too breathless and he finds himself smiling against her waist as he moves downwards. 

“I wanna do this.” He says kissing her hip bone as he hooks his arms under her thighs. “Is that okay?” She hums at him but he needs verbal communication. 

“MJ -” he teases as he presses his lips to her inner thigh, “- tell me what you want -” she gasps as he moves his head to kiss the other side and his nose bumps her centre “- tell me how you want it.” 

“Peter - has anyone ever told you you’re irritating?” She answers but goes to place her hands on the sides of his neck and he never wants to leave this room. 

“Is this okay?” She says stroking his neck with her thumbs. 

“Are you asking me if it’s okay that you have your hands on my neck when  _ I’m  _ trying to ask you if it’s okay to eat you out?” Her laughter shakes her whole body and his nose hit her again and this time she grasps the hair at the back of his neck. 

“Peter, come on.” She says with a whine at the back of her throat and he again finds himself thrusting against the sheets as he pulls her pants to the side and licks a stripe up her centre. He feels her moan vibrate through the mattress and he needs to stop thrusting in case he makes a mess of the sheets. 

Focusing all of his senses on her, making her feel good - he licks a straight line up again and sucks on her clit when he reaches the top and she arches into him. Moaning against her he reaches his fingers around the tops of her thighs to spread her lips further and swirls his tongue slower against her. 

“Is this okay?” He asks because although she’s moaning beneath him, he’d still like to make sure. 

“Yeah, fuck - can you do that again?” She says and her voice is lower than before and he finds himself grinding against the sheets again, desperate to be inside her - to feel her wrapped around him. He’ll take tasting her on his tongue while she releases his hair from one her hands to move back up to her chest. 

“Jesus, MJ.” He grunts when she tweaks a nipple and moves her hips towards his mouth again. She whines slightly when he moves off her to take her pants off completely - forgetting to fold them neatly. Setting back on her, he complies, swirling his tongue slowly while watching her play with herself above him. 

“I need -”

“What?” He says head springing up to look at her properly - he thinks he must look ridiculous because she laughs at him softly -” I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I know, dork - you just didn’t let me finish.” 

"Oh - right, yeah... sorry." He says sheepishly, placing a kiss to her clit just so he can duck down and hide his blush, and because he wants too.

"It's okay. You're cute - like a puppy." She adds on when he looks back at her with bewilderment. Yes he's excited she thinks he's cute, but he is literally lying between her legs and he'd hope she thought something else. He gulps and smiles at her anyway - she smiles back.

He maintains eye contact as he moves one arm from underneath her thigh so he can run his fingers lightly through her wetness and flicks his fingertip over her clit. He smiles widely when her eyes close at the movement and she melts into the comforter. Should he have pulled the bedsheets back? Possibly.

He ghosts his finger around her cunt and slowly enters one finger swallowing a moan at how wet it is when he pulls it back out.

"More, please -" she breathes out as she bucks her hips into his hand and he can barely deal with how hot he finds that. How badly he wants her to tell him everything and anything she wants him to do to her. He'd do it for sure. No question.

He starts by introducing a second finger crooking his fingers slightly when he's two knuckles deep in her.

"Fuck, fuck -" she says and he wonders how much lower her voice is gonna go and if he'll be able to restrain from thrusting into nothing if he does. He lowers his mouth to tongue at her clit and immediately starts moving against the sheets when she groans out his name.

"Peter, right there, please." Her hold on his hair hasn't faltered and although he could easily get out of it there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Not that that matters, because his alarm goes off. 

He focuses his efforts on finger fucking her in a way that makes her throw her head to the side and move a hand from her nipple to grab the pillow next to her. He can feel her getting closer, her cunt tightly squeezing his fingers as he thrusts them in and out. He tries not to feel disappointed before it's even over. But he knows he's not going to be able to stay - has no way to tell her that they can't have sex - because what's he going to say? He's nervous she'll ask him straight to his face and he's not sure he can lie to her.

He looks up at her from beneath his lashes and she glances down to him at the same time - she's biting her lip to keep her moans quiet, he assumes, and he wishes there was another time so he could hear her let go. He wishes there was more time to get to know her. He wants to know why she doesn't want him to kiss her - he wants to know what it would take for her to let him.

"Fuck, fuck -" she says with furrowed eyebrows and at least he got his wish to see what she looks like when she comes. Her back arches off the bed and her mouth falls open with a silent scream. He licks her through her comedown and she sighs letting her hand on his hair fall to her side.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he crawls up towards her head, peppering kisses along her chest as he goes. As his lips lingering on her neck he thinks of a way to end this without being rude and dismissive, though he doesn't think he has a choice when his alarm goes off again and it’s a distress signal.

He loves being Spider-Man, he got given this talent and these powers to help people.  _ Really  _ truly help people and he knows that. He knows he's lucky to get to do this. But as he moves to hover over her he wishes that sometimes he had a choice. That he didn't always have to say yes. Sure, someone might not die this time around - but there's always that chance. And he can't risk it. He couldn't risk it for the love of his life - let alone someone he barely knows. He just desperately wants too.

"Hi." She says leaning up to press a kiss to his neck and he sighs at the feel of her lips against him.

"Hi." He whispers back as she settles back under him. She's so fucking pretty and he wants to get lost in her eyes for just a few more minutes. This is a job he reminds himself. He's never going to see her again anyway - so really this disappointing ending might not mean that much to her. But as she trails her fingers along his sides and up around his chest he can't help but think what if.

"I've got to go - I'm sorry." He says when his alarm rings for the third time. She looks hurt for a second and then schools her face to disinterest.

"Oh. I thought you might -" He sees her blush slightly and shake her head, "-sorry. Yeah, no problem."

"I'm really sorry, MJ. I don't wanna go I just."

"Don't worry about it." She says moving out from under him and he misses her an unreasonable amount. He doesn't want it to end like this - knowing that really, there's no other way for it to end.

She's dressed and has her shoes on in the time it takes him to stop wallowing and lift his head from the comforter. She turns to face him and he hates how she's trying and failing if he's got a good guess, to hide the fact that she's sad.

"Are you not in a rush?" She says with a head tilt. And he is. Truly he is. But it's easier to go out the window in his suit so he needs her to leave first.

"Yes."

"I can give you a lift if you want?" She says crossing her arms across her chest. Shit.

"Oh, don't worry - I need to wash the job away before I leave." He says and God does he ever think before he speaks. 

“Right. Yeah, of course. Sorry.” And she's out the door before he can even think of a way out of what he just said.

Spider-Man is one of the best things to have ever happened to him. But he can't help but think about all the other 'best things' he's missing out on when this one takes up so much of his time.


	2. so you're trying to buy what's already yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, no she’s not upset they didn’t have sex. She’s not upset he had to leave twenty seconds after she came - she wasn’t expecting to cuddle. She’s just… disappointed. Her friends bought her four sessions with an escort because she is quote-unquote, high strung and needs to get laid. She can get laid. But she may or may not admit that she’s placed that on the back burner to progress in her career and there’s no one at her work that she wants to fuck.

Okay, no she’s not upset they didn’t have sex. She’s not upset he had to leave twenty seconds after she came - she wasn’t expecting to cuddle. She’s just… disappointed. Her friends bought her four sessions with an escort because she is quote-unquote, high strung and needs to get laid. She can  _ get  _ laid. But she may or may not admit that she’s placed that on the back burner to progress in her career and there’s no one at her work that she wants to fuck.

She’s never had an issue with sex work, or you know, _work_. She just didn’t know the protocol - is it one orgasm and then go? Usually, she does a lot more research for things like this but she’s been weighed down with an insane amount of marking and test prep so the only thing she could do ahead of time was get a wax and put a dress on. 

She doesn’t know who she has tonight - she didn’t specifically ask to not have Peter again. He was good, cute, attentive - until he made her feel dirty and she had to walk briskly to the elevator in case she shouted at him - or worse, cried. She didn’t cry over boys in school, she’s not crying over men now. 

She did request a new room - feng shui issues in the last one. So she makes her way to 382 and silently hopes for a dorky looking guy with nice shoulders. She’s wearing a green slip dress today because it’s easier to get on and off in case tonight ends like last week but as she knocks on the door she hopes it doesn’t. 

The door opens and, “hi Mary Jane.” He says politely inviting her in with a swing of his arm. She doesn’t like how that name sounds leaving his mouth.

“Peter.” The air is charged and not in a good way when she hears the door click closed behind him. 

“Er so I was - I’m here… obviously -” he stutters out shaking his head, “but you didn’t request for me to be.” He looks ashamed and down at his feet in a way that she finds aggressively cute - but is he shocked?

“Not that I expected you to - I’m - I’m really sorry for last week Mary -”

“MJ.”

“Right, sorry. It was rude and I didn’t mean to say what I said - you don’t need to be washed away -” they both cringe slightly when he brings it back up. “You’re beautiful and funny and I swear this is not my first time ever doing this - but I can’t seem to focus on my words around you and I’m really sorry.” She can’t tell which part of that is true and which is good customer service but she thinks he’s as sorry as he sounds. 

“Thank you. I forgive you.” She says pulling her lips into a smile, though she still feels a little awkward. 

“I can get someone else for you?” He replies, wringing his hands. She raises an eyebrow in question. “Well - you can forgive me and still not want me here. So I can get someone else for you if you want that.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not really in the mood anyway so I might just pass out on the bed instead.” It’s not a lie - work has been a bitch this week and that bed looks comfortable and she already came all the way over here. He looks at her like he’s not sure what to do here.

“I think it’s paid in advance so - you don’t have to -” she starts awkwardly. 

“Oh. No, you’ll get your money back. Obviously. I’ll send a message right now.” He replies while whipping his phone out from his back pocket.

“No - what, that’s - it’s fine.” She doesn’t want him to be out of pocket. God, she should have researched this better. Does he get sick pay? Is he in a union? She should check. 

“Already done.” He says with a smile - a cute smile. 

“Room service is on me then, if you’re hungry?” She says immediately unsure if she should have - that doesn’t seem like protocol. She’s not sure he’s supposed to be with her here outside of an appointment and she’s spiralling further when his brows furrow and he seems to be thinking the same thing she is.

“Can we eat on the bed?” Okay so maybe not the exact same thing. She rolls her eyes but kicks her shoes off all the same. She jumps to sit on the bed, annoyed at the fact her dress ends mid-thigh because she can’t think of how to sit. Technically, she could sit cross-legged - he’s already seen her… nevermind. 

“I have some bottoms you can wear - and a top if you don’t like the dress trouser combo. Not that the dress doesn’t look -” he clears his throat while looking up and down her body in a way that stirs something within her “- doesn’t look really good - nice - you look nice.” He stutters out while rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, loser. I’ll take the clothes. Thank you.”

He huffs out a laugh but grabs the clothes from his backpack anyway, lightly tossing them to her. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” He says as she slips the straps of her dress down and lets it fall to the floor. She feigns disinterest but the way his eyes track her legs as she steps into the sweats makes her giddy. Something she doesn’t remember feeling before.

“So what do you wanna eat?” She says grabbing a menu from the side table and leaning back against the headboard. He chokes and she looks up at him - finding him blushing for a reason she can’t place.

“You choose.” He huffs out. She pats the space next to her on the bed and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline and she has to bite her lip to stop smiling so hard. 

“Dork.”

He gasps in response and steals the menu from her - holding it out of her reach when she goes to grab it off him. 

“Peter!”

“What’s up, MJ?” He says with a look in his eye and a tone she doesn’t hate. She thinks he’s flirting with her - she’d never had to second guess herself usually. But there’s a reason he’s here. So she stops herself flirting with him back. 

“Fine - can you get pizza?” She regrets her decision a little bit when his face falls slightly. She flicks the TV on and finds a suitable show to watch and they don’t have to talk to each other if they don’t want to - she settles on Modern Family reruns. 

They manage two episodes before the pizza arrives and she’s taken out of her thoughts which centred around how lovely his laugh was. She wants to tell him, but she swallows the information along with three slices of pizza. 

“Oh, there’s a quiz on the back of this box. And by quiz I mean there’s one question and I think it’s supposed to be a joke.” He says like he really wants to ask her the question. She raises her eyebrow for him to continue. 

“Okay - there’s no question I just wanted a reason to talk to you.” He says sheepishly.

“You’re such a nerd.” She laughs out - hoping he picks up on the teasing and not just thinking she’s mean. He rolls his eyes at her.

“Teeeeell me something about yourself, MJ.” He says moving so he’s lying down, head on the pillow but facing her. 

“What is this, an interview?” She says looking over at him as he pouts. 

“Emmmmm Jaaay.” She rolls her eyes but she says what she wanted to say the second he invited her in this evening. “My name isn’t Mary Jane.” He gasps loudly but there’s a glint to his eye - “I. MJ. Am scandalised.” 

“Shut up.” She laughs with a kick somewhere towards his legs. He grabs her knee and pulls her so she falls back - mirroring his position on the bed. 

“Well, that was rude.” She says as deadpan as she can manage - but his face suggests she isn’t pulling it off very well. She turns to face him properly - waiting for his follow up question. 

“So - do I get to know?” He whispers. 

“Michelle.” He looks ecstatic that he has this information now. She’s glad for about two seconds.

“Chelly.”

“No.”

“Meesh.”

“No -”

“Mi - mi.”

“ _ Peter _ .” She says going to push his chest, but he catches her hand. His laughter rocks the mattress enough for her to feel it - but it could easily be her laughter too. As her cheeks start hurting and the laughter dies down to elongated sighs - she catches him watching her.

“What?” She says breathlessly - enjoying the look in his eyes more than she would like. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers as his gaze slips down her body is a way that makes her tingle from her head to her toes even though she’s fully dressed. She lets out a sigh, annoyed that he can get this reaction out of her - knowing that it’s only because of their circumstance - and how she wishes she met him somewhere else. Not because she’s mad he’s an escort, he’s clearly very good at it - she just knows he’s putting it all on. It’s part of the experience, right? 

When his fingers trail up her forearm she remembers she’s here for the experience - so fuck it. 

“Is that a line?” She replies but her gaze drops to his lips - she was the one who set the boundaries for them not kissing but she’s desperate to know what he tastes like.

“No - but it can be - if you want.” He whispers pulling them towards each other with his hold on her. He uses his free hand to move some hair behind her ear - although she didn’t feel any on her face. She understands, she wants to touch him too. So she reaches with slightly trembling fingers to trace the collar of his t-shirt - revelling in the way he gulps when she places her hand to the side of his throat.

"We don't - if you don't -" he clears his throat and her fingers smooth over his tensed muscles. "I really, really want you. If you want me too." He says eyes asking much more than his words seem too.

"Yeah - I want you too." She says quietly. His answering smile takes up his entire face and she thinks the room gets ten times brighter. It stays illuminated even as she closes her eyes as he pulls her t-shirt straight over her head and his tongue and lips immediately find her collarbone. She pushes the waistband of the borrowed sweats down and wiggles her legs to free herself from them even as he laughs against her.

"Shut up." She says with the tone is lost as huffs out a breath.

"Not my fault you're adorable, Michelle." He says mouthing at her lace-covered nipples.

"Not -"

"Yes, you are. You're cute, and pretty, and funny, and indescribably sexy in this." He says playing the lace at the edge of her underwear. His eyes flick to hers in question and she nods at him while biting her lower lip. His eyes follow the motion as his fingers slip past her panty line and she gasps as he doesn't tease and slips a finger straight down her slit, gathering her wetness and spreading it over her clit in a way that makes her breath choppy. She should be, _could be_ , embarrassed by how wet he makes her without really doing anything but looking at her - she chooses not to be.

"Is this okay?" He says earnestly as if she hasn't got a tight encouraging grip on his arm.

"Yeah - please." She replies breathlessly and then tilts to kiss his neck. It should be embarrassing how turned on he makes her - but she figures that's the reason he got this job. He's good at making people feel like this. She wishes it was more obvious when he looked at her that he's not  _ looking at her  _ like that. Maybe it would be easier for her if she physically had to hand over money - and this didn't seem like a freebie because her friends thought it was funny.

She's not laughing now - not when his fingers ghost around her entrance - she thrusts her hips to meet him and moans when he slips in with no resistance.

"Fuck, MJ. You're -" he kisses across her chest, "God, you're insane." His fingers are pistoning in and out of her and his thumb finds her clit and instead of thinking about how amazing she feels - all she's thinking about is how badly she wants to kiss him.

"Peter -  _ faster _ , please, go faster." She grips his hair tightly as he moans against her neck. He moves to whisper filthy things in her ear that brings her closer and closer to the edge.

"You take my fingers so well. Jesus, MJ it's like I was made for you." He punctuates his words with another kiss to her hairline and honestly is he reading from a script? How does he manage to say these things to people and seem like he so desperately means them? Is she just the world's biggest fool?

She's brought out of her thoughts by Peter biting her earlobe, telling her he wants to fuck her with his dick if she wants.

"Yeah." She stumbles out as his thumb brushes her clit harder and faster.

"Yeah?" She can hear the hope in his voice and she rolls her eyes even though he can't see.

"Don't roll your eyes at me - it's dangerously attractive." She's about to ask how he knew but he crooks his fingers just right and she's coming with a not so silent moan.

“Is it too much to say that’s one of my favourite sounds already?” He says as her body shakes besides him. She snorts at him when she has the ability to do more than just breathe and when she opens her eyes he’s already looking at her with a dopey expression. 

“Okay,  _ that’s  _ my favourite.” He says looking way too shy - as if he’s not currently removing his fingers from her. She finds herself rolling her eyes in fondness again. 

“Get a condom, nerd.”

“You know, you say that but you don’t  _ know  _ if I am. I could be a jock, MJ.” He responds but goes to grab a condom anyway.

“You have a replica Spider-Man hoody so I can safely assume you are.” She hears him choke from the other side of the bed and feels a bit guilty for bringing it up - she doesn’t want him to be embarrassed by his geekiness - own that.

“Don’t worry - Spidey is cool, so I forgive you for that.” She says when his back is still turned. He clears his throat and turns back to her but looks at the bedsheets as he moves closer. 

“You know -” he says quietly kissing her ankle “- you could be a nerd too -” he moves to part her legs and she eagerly agrees, making a space for him as he drops kisses up her thighs, “- maybe you should tell me things about yourself so I know that you’re not -” he motions for her to lift her hips so he can remove her pants, she does and then he’s back to kissing her way up her body, “- so I know you’re not a nerd too.”

“What -” she gasps as he reaches her nipple and goes to remove her bra “- do you wanna know?”

“Everything. What did you do today?” He says leaning back down to take a nipple in his mouth and one in his hand - she moans as he rolls his tongue over her and matches his actions with his fingers.

“Uhh, work and then -  _ Peter  _ -” he moans against her and she feels him thrust through the slick from her orgasm so she motions for the condom, “- then I had my shift at the soup kitchen.” She says shakily as she motions for him to lift up so she can reach him. 

“Is this okay?” She asks when she rips the wrapper with her teeth, he hums in response so she raises her eyebrow at him. He chuckles back and kisses her nose while she waits for verbal consent. 

“Yes, Michelle.” 

“The -  _ fuck  _ \- the soup kitchen doesn’t sound nerdy.” He says with his eyes closed and breathing heavily from his nose. She kisses him on the neck while rolling the condom on him - unapologetically pleased with how thick and heavy he feels in her hand. 

“I never said I was a nerd, Peter.” She says against his neck as she motions for him to roll over. He kisses her shoulder as he moves to lay on his back. He rubs his hands up and down her thighs, adding pressure to where she's the most tensed.

"I wanna ride you, is that okay?" She asks mainly to fuck with him.

"You said that on purpose. But  _ yes _ ." He responds tightly as his eyes fall to where they're about to be connected.

"Just looking for verbal consent, Peter." She replies slowly sinking down on him. Her eyes close in bliss and she blindly searches for one of his hands - he gives it to her.

"MJ, Jesus Christ." She hears him groan. When she's taken him fully, she feels full in a way she never has before - he's all she can think about. Giving herself a moment to adjust she rolls her neck and looks down at him - he's already looking at her.

"Hey."

"Hey." He says like it's taking a lot of energy to not move right now. She winks at him and starts slowly moving up when he huffs at her like she's rude. The second descent is much easier as the wetness coats his dick completely. And she finds herself increasing the pace quicker than she was intending. He feels so good and she's overwhelmed with how badly she wants to feel him thrust into her.

"Pete -" she says breathlessly.

"Yeah? What - Em - what is it? You can - _fuck_ -" he places both of his hands, one still intertwined with hers, on her hips to help guide her quicker "- you can have whatever you want."

"Move." And he does and she has to move to place her hands on his chest for leverage as he meets her thrust for thrust and she can't help the moans that leave her throat.

"God- you're so good at that." She says because she means it - she'd say it without knowing it's his job.

"It's all you, Michelle. Fuck - _everything_ \- it's all you." The extortion in her thighs is something that creeps up on her and suddenly she's mad she didn't take yoga for longer - because she very much enjoys being on top - but she finds she doesn't even need to tell him.

Peter flips them so quickly she's not sure they actually moved until she opens her eyes and he's looking down at her. His gaze slips to her lips again and she's overcome with how much she wants to kiss him, to taste him. But as she goes to move he ducks his head to kiss her neck. She moves a hand to play with her clit to distract herself from kissing him even though she was the one who made that rule.

His hand moves from the pillow next to her to grab her thigh and he moves it up slowly to change the position and he's hitting a whole next angle which makes her bury her head in his neck to keep to screaming his name.

She moans into his neck as he thrusts into her and she’s overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere. The pressure of his chest on hers, the way his body holds her down, the feeling of his thighs tensing against her with every thrust.

When he kisses his way up along the bottom of her jaw, she nudges his face up to meet hers. She lightly kisses him on the lips when he looks at her - and the shock that she thinks turns to awe in his eyes takes her breath away and he slows his thrusts.

“And - you kissed me?” He says bewildered. She nods at him because he looks like a dork but she’s too into the look in his eye to carry off snarky.

He let’s go off her leg gently, moving both of his hands to grab the sides of her face - darting in to kiss her this time, two times, three times. 

"God you have no idea how badly -" he moans into her mouth as she clenches around him, "- how much I've wanted to kiss you. I think about it all the time."

"Everything you dreamed of, nerd?" She says as she snakes her free hand to the back of his neck to bring him back to her again.

"Everything." He whispers as he traces her lip with his tongue. She forgets to overthink whether or not he means the words he says - choosing instead to enjoy what they're doing. To get lost in the feel of him cursing as he moves in and out of her - the way her breath hitches when he teases his tongue into her mouth only to retreat again.

She goes to move her hand off of her clit because he is kinda swashing her and he grabs her wrist and guides her slick fingers into her mouth, his eyes darkening as she immediately opens her lips for him. She sucks on them moaning as he thrusts slowly again. 

He moves her fingers away and before she has a chance to swallow his lips are on hers and his tongue slips into her mouth. 

“Fuck MJ - you taste so good.” 

“You already know what I taste like.” She stutters out because he moves to bracket the sides of her head with his forearms and starts moving faster again.

“Tastes better coming from your mouth though.” He says with a kiss to her temple. A move that makes her heart stutter and she’s confused all over again. He’s really fucking good at his job. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing.” He says from above her, and she can see the muscles in his neck tensing and his chest is flushed and it’s one of her favourite sights already. 

"You're really -" she says but his new angle grinds against her clit and she moans instead "- really beautiful." 

“ _ God _ , you can’t - you.” He says like he’s waging an internal war with himself. 

“I’m close, Em -” So she sneaks her hand between their sweaty bodies again and rubs her clit with as much rhythm as she can - but she cries out when he hits a new angle.

“Do that again -” she says with a whine from the back of her throat that she’d be embarrassed about if she weren’t so turned on. He thrusts forwards again and when she feels the edge getting closer she uses her spare hand to pull his mouth to hers and their lips barely touch as she comes with a moan straight down his throat. 

“Jesus, you’re perfect.” He says kissing her forehead and then she feels him grip the pillow next to her as he comes with a near shout. She loosely brings her arms around his shoulders while he lays on top of her, face tucked into her neck. She feels safe here - feels like she can forget it’s not real here. But his body slowly crushes her the same way the realisation that everything she felt, everything she saw - was paid for. 

So she taps his waist and laughs as best she can when he grunts against her neck.

"Peter I can barely breathe."

"I know how to take your breath away... is what you're saying." He says with a kiss to her neck, and then her jaw and then her mouth. She really hates how much she likes him - how she'd never be able to figure out if he liked her back. He can't right? Everything she thinks she sees, countless other people see as well.

"Dork." She says attempting to hide behind a wall of nonchalance.

"Only for you." He says kissing her again while simultaneously pulling out of her. It's a weird feeling. As he sits up to take the condom off and throw it away - she makes her way to the bathroom. She pees and washes her hands desperately trying to not think for once. To not over complicate this. It's just sex. She's been fine with just sex before.

But then she catches her reflection in the mirror and her hair is a mess, and her lips are slightly swollen and there are countless marks on her neck from his lips and she likes it. She likes how he makes her feel. God, she's so confused. She snaps out of it to wash her hands - forgetting to run a hand through her hair as she flings the door open to avoid being trapped in here with her thoughts any more.

"Hey." He says tucked under the covers. She can't like him this much after two non-dates - one of which he skipped out on the ending anyway. It's not her. She doesn't do this. But he pulls the duvet back and wiggles his eyebrows at her and she slips under them, content to lay here with him and deal with her emotions tomorrow.

The second she’s under the covers he pulls her towards him - asking with his eyes is this is okay, she responds with a smile and places her hand over his waist. 

“I am really sorry about last week. I didn’t - I don’t - you’re great. And I don’t want you to think I don’t want you here.” He says softly into her hair. It’s what she wants to hear. It’s what she would want to hear from anyone. She’s just not sure how many people he’s said those exact words to. 

It’s not about the physical act - he can fuck whoever - but she’s scared she likes him a lot. And she shouldn’t, it’s dangerous. She leans into his body more to press these thoughts out of her mind - if only for one night. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says as if he’s falling asleep. She hums in response. And then spends the next however long in the dark with him answering every generic question she thinks he can think of. He slips in some deeper ones too - but he asks those with a kiss to her hairline, or her nose, or her fingers - so she tells him anyway. In the end, she thinks he might know her better than anyone.

She falls asleep laying on his chest with the feeling of his fingers drawing patterns on her back. Occasionally he'd ask her what he was drawing - he wouldn't tell her unless she guessed correctly. She never did. Although one time when she concentrated - as much as the feel of his free hand playing with her hair would allow - she swears he wrote that he was scared. She's not sure of what.

It's still dark when she feels his side of the bed spring up - she's too sleepy to double-check what she's already sure of. He's leaving.

When she wakes in the real morning, the one with bright skies and sunlight, her heart drops when she finds she was correct. She runs a hand over his side anyway and her brows furrow when she stumbles on several pieces of paper.

She's annoyed at how her heart soars when she sees his sloppy writing on a crumpled napkin.

_ Morning sleepy, _

_ I'm really sorry I had something to do and it couldn't wait. I really didn't want to leave you. Did you know you snore? So loud - could barely sleep. Good thing you're cute. Breakfast is on me. _

_ Peter. _

Along with the note is forty dollars and she rolls her eyes at how much he thinks she eats for breakfast. She stretches and finds she is a little sore - she smiles about it - and decides maybe she should get hash browns and pancakes.

When she gets out of bed, as close to check out time as possible, she’s worn out, she sees his jumper strewn over the chair and figures she has to take it with her, right? She’ll see him again next week. New York is a big place - she’s never gonna see him around, so if she wears the jumper to breakfast - it’s not a big deal. 

It’s when she’s walking down the street to the diner, smiling to herself every time she can smell Peter on the jumper that she thinks she might be in trouble. That she might really like him. It sours her mood slightly until,

“Hey miss, I have a jumper just like that!” She looks around to see where the voice is coming from, and then she spots him. “Looks better on you though!” 

“Thanks, Spidey.” She says with a salute as she walks through the diner doors - missing the way he watches her for a beat too long before swinging towards the sirens she heard thirty seconds ago.


	3. then you can win my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the way her body is always just behind his eyelids that has him pumping through his hand in the shower at four am. It’s the way her smell lingers on his clothes that has him smiling in the grocery store. It’s the way her laughter plays on repeat in his head has him writing down all and any stupid puns he can think of until he sees her again. It’s the way she’s on his mind consistently that means he misses a swing and takes a metal rhino tail to the chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: in end notes x  
> this chapter got away from me help

It’s the way her body is always just behind his eyelids that has him pumping through his hand in the shower at four am. It’s the way her smell lingers on his clothes that has him smiling in the grocery store. It’s the way her laughter plays on repeat in his head has him writing down all and any stupid puns he can think of until he sees her again. It’s the way she’s on his mind consistently that means he misses a swing and takes a metal rhino tail to the chest. 

He hits the roof at an angle that knocks the breath from his chest and he barely has enough time to release a web to keep him from falling face-first on the sidewalk. It’s Thursday tomorrow and he could really do with not being beaten and bruised when he sees Michelle. She’s already light years out of his league - he doesn’t need any more handicaps. 

Slowly swinging himself to the top of the building, he knows Rhino has long gone and he curses his weak mind for allowing thoughts of MJ to work their way through his fight. It’s just - she said she was a fan of Spider-Man. Without prompting. And it made his heart soar - after he’d stifled down a choke that he was so careless around her she’d seen his suit. So obviously instead of noting that the awning he usually uses to swing from was closed - he thought of all the reasons someone like MJ would like him.

Laying on the roof for just a second to let himself heal - Karen signals that he has a call from Harry.

“Hey, man.” Peter stifles out while feeling for any cracks in his bones. If Harry notes he sounds like he’s in pain he doesn’t mention it.

“Dude. So I’m covering your ass - so you should tell me what this chick likes.”

“What? I dunno.” He says half listening half trying to hold enough pressure on his ribs that the pain subsides.

“Unsurprising. Do you know what she _doesn’t_ like then?” He says with a snide laugh that suggests they’re not as friendly as he thought. “Should I fuck her from behind or is she hot?” 

“Harry, Jesus. I don’t - “ he hisses as he lessens the pressure on his ribs accidentally “- I don’t know who you have.”

“Mary Jane.” He says casually. Peter goes through the faces of people he’s had before but can’t place a Mary Jane. In his limited defence, all he can think about is Mich -

“What?!” Peter replies springing to his feet, ignoring the shooting pain through his chest. No, no - she has appointments on Thursday’s. And it’s Wednesday. Well, kind of appointments - he’s refused to take the money for them since day one and he’s hoping to never have to again.

“She’ll be here in ten - so - is she hot?” 

“No. Er, no she’s not. I’ll be there in ten so you can go.” He says desperately - he can’t - he doesn’t. She can sleep with Harry if she likes, which she might want too. He hasn’t gathered up the courage to ask her why she’s interested in escorts - when clearly she’s in a whole league of her own. But he doesn’t want her to think _he_ doesn’t want her. He does. It messes with his thoughts regularly. If he could just _ask_ her.

He flings himself from the building ignoring the way Karen is advising he rests. He will rest soon - for sure. 

“Peter - that sounds like she’s hot,” Harry replies in a way that means they’re definitely not friends. He tries to decide as he winces while swinging between buildings with definitely broken ribs - whether he should tell him how he feels and hope that he leaves - or feign disinterest and hope he can swing in time.

The screaming through his muscles as he fumbles a corner makes the latter unfeasible. 

“Yeah. She is and Harry - I _really_ like her man.”

“Oh. Cause of what she can do with her tongue?” He laughs out. And Peter seethes and the anger he feels at the seediness in his voice powers him through his swings faster. 

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He grunts out. Dammit if he’d asked for her number last week instead of writing his fucking thoughts on her back with his fingers - what was she gonna take that information in by osmosis? Idiot.

He hears a knock on the door through the mask and his heart plummets. Of course, she’s early - and he’s five minutes away. He can’t figure out if the pain in his chest is the broken bones or his heart. It’s probably the bones - but the other thing as well. 

“Oh. Sorry - I must have the wrong room.” He hears MJ say faintly.

“MJ!” He shouts but she doesn’t seem to hear it. 

“No. Mary Jane, right? Come on in.” Harry says and Peter hears how he pockets his phone but doesn’t hang up.

“I was - erm, where’s Peter?” And she sounds hurt. He can see the roof of the hotel and he thinks if he carries the momentum from the swinging into changing out of his suit he won’t pass out before he gets there. 

“Sorry baby, me tonight. Pete has a date.” He hears Harry say smugly. 

“Harry you dick!” He screams into his mask, hoping that if she doesn’t hear it over the phone she might hear it through the window because he’s so close to the building. He could go through the window? Although there are no numbers on the outside and he can’t expose himself to two people. Well, Harry. He’d show Michelle if he needed to. 

“Oh. Er. Like an escort thing? Or is that an HR scandal if you tell me?” He hears her laugh but he knows the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Just a standard date with his girlfriend.” 

“Oh.” 

He lands on the roof with a stumble and curses as his knee hits the asphalt at an angle. The adrenaline running through his veins is almost enough to cover the pain that hits him from all sides when he moves to change his suit into his sweats and t-shirt. Throwing the suit in his backpack he breaks the lock on the roof door - tries to remember to give the receptionist fifty dollars to fix it - and opts to take the lift to the third floor. 

He runs his hands through his hair and attempts to wipe his face - he has no idea what he looks like but he can’t guess that it’s good. He smells. He’s got scruffy clothes on and he’s about to go up against Harry fucking Osborn. Is this a good idea? Maybe he should just - leave. She’s not going to wanna date him anyway - not when he’s an escort - right?

He decides to hell with it when the lift signals he’s at floor three and he runs towards the hotel room - remembering to check whether or not he can hear anything from inside. He won't interrupt if they’re - he clears his throat and listens as the door comes up. 

“I can show you a better time than Parker.”

“I’m fine - thank you.”

“You won’t get your money back.” And honestly, fuck that guy. He stumbles into the room wincing as the lock cracks in his palm - noting to increase the bill to a hundred. She turns to look at him and she looks sad and devastatingly beautiful. 

“Peter -” he hears her say quietly, “- what the fuck happened are you alright?” She says, sounding panicked. He nods as he continues to walk towards her - holding her close the second he’s within reach. She throws her arms around his shoulders rubbing down the back of his neck. 

“I’m better now.” He whispers running his hands up and down her back.

“Peter - what happened?” He didn’t spend any time on the way over thinking of a reason that he’d be stumbling in here - he doesn’t want to lie to her. But he needs to think about it. And plus, Harry hasn’t fucked off. 

He leans back and she looks so fucking concerned and all he can do is kiss her. She responds immediately and his hands make their way to hold her face. Her hands weave their way down his back and he can’t help the jolt that happens when she ghosts his ribs. 

“Right - go home.” She says barely a centimetre away from his face. And his heart sinks. It’s fair - he thinks. He over thought his feelings, or whatever he has for her having known her for a total of about twenty hours. But he sees Harry’s smug face and he has to try, right? 

“Come with me?” He says holding his hand and his heart out. She takes both. 

“Let’s go, loser.” He barely resists flipping Harry the bird but she intertwines their fingers as she pulls him out the room and her hand fits perfectly in his - so he keeps his middle finger lowered. 

He hardly remembers how they got downstairs and into her car because when his thoughts weren’t centring around trying to remember whether or not he has bandages at home - they were on how soft her hands are - how he wants to be touching any part of her at all times. 

She doesn’t let his hand go on the drive to his apartment - keeping their fingers linked when she shifts gear. 

“Are you in a fight club?” She says while they’re at a stoplight - though she doesn’t look at him. 

“You know the rules -” he tries to joke but she turns to him and she’s biting her lip like she knows he’s going to lie to her either way.

“No.” He says rubbing his thumb over her wrists. 

“Can you tell me?” He shakes his head in response and she looks like she was expecting that answer.

“Was it important?” She almost whispers like she really wants to know the answer but desperately doesn’t want to ask. It takes him a while to figure out why she’s asking and then he remembers how she thinks he ditched her. 

“I didn’t know it was you.”

“Oh, but were you busy?”

“No, not really.”

“Then why did you cancel?” She says with her brows furrowed like she has no idea how he feels about her. 

“It wasn’t you, MJ.” 

“Oh.” 

The rest of the drive to his place is filled with comfortable silence but whenever he looks over at her, he swears she’s trying to hide a smile. 

He invites her up because he needs her help to get up the stairs. That’s all. He takes her bag with his when she lifts the trunk but that’s just a convenient accident. 

She walks through his apartment like she’s made to be here - and he’s not sure how he’s ever going to walk around without imagining her in every space. Would she change things around? Maybe she thinks the sofa would look better under the window - maybe she has art work she wants to put on the walls. 

“Sit here.” She says pointing to the edge of his bed - he does. He also helps her take his top off slowly because Spider-Man or not, cracked ribs hurt. 

“Peter.” She says softly, rubbing a thumb of his cheek. “What can I do?” He thinks just her being here is enough but maybe also a bandage. 

“There’s a roll of bandages in the bathroom counter -” she off before he’s finished - he’s not even sure she knows where the bathroom is, “- I just need one rib wrapped.” He shouts after her. 

When she returns it’s with a wet washcloth, bandages, painkillers and a glass of water. She rolls her eyes at him when he smiles dopily up at her. Handing him two ibuprofen and the water she drops to her knees between his legs and he almost chokes the pills back up. But she lightly wipes dirt from his chest and places a kiss to a particularly bad bruise. 

“Okay - so just pressure and wrap, yeah?” She asks tone even but her fingers tremble slightly. He feels awful about it - another reason why he shouldn’t ask her anything. She doesn’t deserve this life - she doesn’t even know he _has_ this life. 

“Please.” 

He winces and screws his eyes shut when she applies pressure, breathing heavily through his nose. 

“Sorry - sorry.” 

“It’s -” he grunts when she starts to wrap the bandage, “okay.” Thankfully she’s quick and concise and the pain alleviates - appearing to disappear altogether when he opens his eyes and she’s already looking at him, lip taking the brunt of nervousness from her teeth. He darts forwards to kiss her quickly, “thank you.” 

She moves to sit next to him and rests her head against his shoulder, lacing her fingers with his. 

“Sorry, you’re hurt.”

“Sorry, you had to help fix me up.”

“I’m happy to.” She states quietly, squeezing his fingers. He doesn’t know what to say without spilling his heart to her - so he tells her something he thought the second he saw her this evening. 

“You look really pretty.”

“Therefore I have value?” 

“What? No, no that’s not what I meant at all -” he stutters out until he feels her laughing against him. 

“I’m messing with you. You look pretty too.” 

“I doubt that.”

“Well, you don’t have a shirt on so.”

“Michelle - are you sexualising me?” 

"Do you want me to be?" She asks and he gulps but before he has time to answer she continues, "How does your chest feel?" Her eyes flickering up to his in a way that makes his dick twitch. 

"Fine. Good."

“Good like I can blow you?” She replies softly as if she's not giving him everything - as if she's asking if he wants pasta. Given the way they met - and the fact _technically_ she could still be here for one thing only, he’s never expected her to _do_ anything to him. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it at length.

“You don’t have to -” 

“I know. But I’ve wanted to know what you taste like for weeks. And I wanna make you feel good.” She sinks to her knees for a second time but this time her eyes darken in lust and it takes all of his strength not to thrust up into nothing. Her hand's run-up to the waistband of his sweats, thumbs kneading along his thighs in a way that makes him bite back a moan. He helps her take them off because he’s nice like that and his head hits the mattress with a thud when she licks a stripe from his base to the tip. 

“ _Jesus Christ.”_ He grunts out when she takes him fully into her mouth - he can barely keep it together when he lifts his head to look at her and she looks up at him, her lips stretched over him and she pulls back up. She winks at him while letting his dick spring out of her mouth with a pop.

“Is this okay?” She asks in a sultry tone while placing wet open-mouthed kisses to his tip.

“ _Fuck_. This is perfect - you’re perfect.” He chokes out while smoothing her hair from her face. She moves one of her hands to lace with his, bringing it to the back of her head. She lets go to move both of her hands to his hips - opening her mouth to take him again - tongue thick against his shaft. 

She doesn’t move and he’s pretty sure she’s trying to fuck with him and it’s definitely working. She hums against him though and he thrusts lightly into her mouth. 

“Shit - Em, I’m sorry.” He feels her laugh around him as she moves slowly back down with increased pressure and he thrusts again and goes to apologise but she moans against him. He finds looking at her too much - he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by finishing too quickly. But she grasps the base of his dick with her hand, matching the rhythm of her mouth and he’s not sure it matters what he wants. 

Flexing his fingers that have woven through her hair he very lightly pulls at her roots and he loudly moans as the vibrations of her throaty moan hit him. 

“M’close.” He says after what can barely be minutes but he can’t find himself to care - not when she’s increased the pressure on the upstroke and has given control of her movements to him. He helps bob her up and down until every muscle in his body is tense and screaming for release. He goes to move her off him so he can finish on himself but she bats away his hand and sinks back onto him and swallows as he comes down her throat with an obnoxiously loud moan. 

He falls back on the bed with a sigh - attempting to regulate his breathing as he feels her go to lay properly at the head of his bed. 

He moves up to meet her, slipping under the covers because he’s fully naked and cannot be bothered to put clothes back on. He finds he doesn’t find it awkward being fully undressed around Michelle even when she’s still in her dress. She joins him under the covers anyway. 

“Hey.”

“Hey. “ 

“What did you do today?” He asks, kissing the top of her head. 

“Work. Ya know the usual.” He’s embarrassed by how much he feels for her when he realises he doesn’t even know what she does for a living. 

“Is it fun?”

“Are you asking me what I do?” She asks with amusement lacing her tone. 

“Maybe.” She laughs at him but responds all the same, “I lecture at NYU.”

“God. I’d get no work done. English?”

“How did you know?”

“Good guess.”

“Do you do this all the time?” She says running her fingers lightly over his ribs. 

“Escorting?” She hums in response.

“Hmm, no I have a day job.”

“Can I know what it is?”

“I’m a teaching assistant - there’s a job next year that I _really_ want but I’d have to do training alongside it and I just -” he says frustrated and wrapping his arms tighter around her. 

“What’s wrong with training?” She cocks her head and furrows her brows and it makes him want to tell her every single of his deepest fears and regrets. 

“I just - I’m twenty-six and I’ll be twenty-nine when I finish and it just - if I’d started earlier everything wouldn’t feel as monumental you know.”

“You say it like twenty-nine is old, Pete. You’re gonna turn twenty-nine anyway so you may as well do it with the job you want. If you want it?”

“I really do. I’m just scared - what if I’m not good enough? What if the kids hate me? What if I have to start over.” He wants to add that he's scared to death of being too busy to find love. He craves a deep connection with someone - to know them intimately. 

“The only thing the kids are gonna hate is that they think their teacher is hot.” He laughs into her hair as she continues, “you should go for it - if you want it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could fail.” He admits. “I’ve failed before.” He grips her tighter and he’s nervous he’ll leave bruises but he hasn’t spoken to someone who isn’t May about Ben, ever. HE avoids the conversation like the plague, but there's something about her - something that makes him trust her. Something that makes him want to tell her everything - even if that's not what she's asking. But he wants to tell her - wants to hear her say it’s okay - that he tried. 

“Everyone has failed before.” She says softly but moves higher to bury her face in his neck and laces their legs together. He feels so safe with her it’s crazy. 

“Not like I have.”

“You can tell me - if you want. I’ll still be here when you’re done.” 

“I -” There’s burning behind his eyes and he feels stupid and entirely like he wants to just tell her everything. Ben. Spider-Man. Her. 

“You know -” he feels her clear her throat subtly “- I failed too. Really fucking badly Peter. And I’m so desperate to talk to someone, to you - and I don’t even know why. I just - you can tell me and I won’t judge you - if you need me, I’m right here.” He wants to believe her but he’s been told this before. And his demons are too much for people - he knows that. And he doesn’t want to scare her off but God he needs her. 

“My Uncle was murdered and it was my fault.” He says keeping all his muscles tensed and his jaw clenched so tight his skull is vibrating. 

“No, it wasn’t.” She says calmly like she’s never been more sure of anything. “How did he die?” She starts moving her hands from his chest and he panics that she’s going to leave - but she buries one underneath him and finds one of his hands with hers. 

“Shot.” 

“Did you have the gun?” She says bluntly but with kindness, he doesn’t deserve it. 

“No, but -” 

“Okay - so how is it your fault?” 

“I wasn’t - he wasn’t supposed to be out but I’d run away and - I was only fifteen but - I shouldn’t - if I’d just stayed at home.”

“Peter. Look at me.” He does. She’s beautiful. 

“I wanna tell you something… and I don’t talk about this very often so if I cry ignore me and then when I’m done, kiss me. Okay?”

He leans towards her to capture her lips with his and she releases his hand so she can pull him close to her with her hand on the back of his neck - his go tightly around her waist. She touches his tongue with hers and he moans into her mouth. Pulling her so she’s fully on top of him his hands roam her back - mapping each dip of her body. He pulls back when he remembers he’s being selfish - she’s trying to help him. 

Her eyes are closed and her lips and swollen and she’s his favourite sight. 

“Like that - kiss me like that.” She breathes out. Bringing his hand to the back of her neck he motions for her to layback on his chest. 

“Lacey loved reading my books when I was younger - and often she’d accidentally write in one because she was so fucking excited that something had happened. But I never thought of it as an accident - it was - I was always so angry at her. And she wrote in my copy of Wind in the Willows and I was fuming and just, God I was so horrible to her. I just - fuck. She was only fucking seven.” She grits out and he wants to help - but he doesn’t know how - so he settles for pulling her tighter to his chest. 

“And she snuck out the house to buy me a new one with twenty dollars she’d be saving with her pocket money and -” his heart breaks as he feels the tears hit his neck and he whispers that it’s okay until her sobs turn gentle. 

“She got hit by a car - and by the time we got there, she was gone. And if I’d just been a better sister she would have - my parents wouldn’t have to go to her grave on her birthday and - I miss her and it’s selfish because it’s all my fault.” 

“I’m so sorry, Em. I’m so sorry -” she grips his t-shirt and he’s overcome with how much feeling he has for her and how desperate he is to help her through it. “That’s not your fault, you've gotta know that.”

“I got her killed.” 

“You didn’t.” He says with as much conviction as he can. “MJ - look at me.” She does. She’s still beautiful with a swollen wet face - not that he’s surprised. 

“It’s not your fault. I am so sorry that happened to her and your family but please, please - you can’t take the blame for that.” He wipes the tears from her face and sees all the pain he feels for failing Ben mirrored in her eyes. He's hit again with the fact that she told him this to help him. TO help him see that these terrible things happen to people all the time. That there's no way he'd ever let her take the blame for her sister - so why can't he see the similarities with Ben?

He kisses her soundly on the lips, then trails his lips over her face in light pecks until she’s laughing on top of him.

“Would you -”

“Yes.”

“Peter, you don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” She says with a light laugh. 

“I’d do anything for you.” He says with far too much emotion to play it off - he’s not sure he wants too, he’s in way too deep. 

“Okay. Imagine we met at high school.” She starts quietly, moving to lay next to him on her side - he mirrors her. 

“I never would have had the courage to talk to you in high school.” He says honestly. As if he would be able to talk to her now if the circumstances were different. 

“Dork. We’re friends in high school, okay?” He nods in response. “And - I come to your house because my house is too much for me and I need to getaway. But I decide I need ice cream at ten pm, so I leave -” she looks at him and he knows what she’s going to say. Knows that if he let her, if he had the choice to let her, she could save him. 

He’s never thought about the possibility that his failure in saving Ben wouldn’t lace his every thought - his every life decision. He didn’t even notice it did until she asked. He’s not sure he’ll ever truly forgive himself - but he’ll try if it means he can take away any of her pain. 

She clears her throat and continues, “so your uncle -”

“Ben.” She smiles at him. 

“ _Ben_ comes looking for me. And he gets really hurt and there’s nothing I can do. And it hurts as much as it hurt you then - would you be able to forgive me?” 

“Yes.” He says honestly, pulling her closer to him - seeing everything he so badly wants living in the way her eyes shine. 

“Why?” _Because it’s you._

“Because it wouldn’t be your fault.” He whispers. 

“Okay. Thank you.” She doesn’t tell him again that it’s not his fault. She doesn’t tell him it will be okay. She just gives him the facts and lets them sit there between them. 

“Would you -” 

“Yes.” She replies. 

“MJ.”

“I’d forgive you.” She says and he can't see anything in her eyes that signal that she's not telling the truth. 

She smiles softly at him and he can’t believe he’s done this. Rom Coms are his favourite film genre but it’s not real life. So why is he so fucking in love with her?

He tilts her face up to his with a gentle hand under her jaw, the kiss is softer than anything they’ve done before and he’s obsessed with how she feels in his arms - how her body feels in his hands. 

His hands slip down to her waist bunching her dress up so he can touch skin and the second his fingers touch her back she shivers against him and deepens the kiss by slipping her tongue in this mouth. 

He’s not sure how they got here from that conversation but he’s not mad about it. He feels closer to her than anyone else before - and he wants to be closer. Needs to feel her surrounding him, letting go of all of his thoughts to focus solely on her, her, her. 

“Em.” He says for no reason other than to say it. She moves to place both her hands on his neck and opens her legs as he slowly trails towards where he’s desperate to be. Slipping his hand into her underwear he groans against her tongue when he feels how wet she is. He goes to apply pressure on her clit but she stops him.

“No time - I want to fuck you right now.” She says as she throws her dress off and moves to straddle him and he’ll always give her what she wants. 

“Wait - your chest.” She says as the bandage slips down to his navel - so perhaps wasn’t as tight as he once thought. He rips it off - bruising already lessening, “it’s fine.” He says honestly as he reaches for a condom in his nightstand. Although her eyes rake over him in suspicion, she doesn't say anything. 

“Em - I promise, it’s okay.” She responds by removing her underwear so he guesses she’s fine with this turn of events. He lets her take the condom out of his hand, and roll it on him after a few pumps of her fist. 

She moves to straddle him again, kissing him softly as she slowly buries him in her - both of them sharing a dazed look of lust when he pulls back for air. He pulls her flush to his chest when she’s finished adjusting to him and the feel of her everywhere is overwhelming his senses in the best way. 

“ _Fuuck_ \- you’re everything, Michelle.” He says running his hands up and down her back as he kisses everywhere he can reach, her shoulder, her neck, her chest. She rolls her neck and lets her head hang back to accommodate him as he slowly strokes the soft skin of her neck. Gripping her jaw lightly to bring her lips back to him. 

She lifts herself slowly and he moans into her mouth as she moves back down. As he traces the contours of her body with his hands he thinks about how everything could be. He could be Spier-Man, and he could do the training and he’d deserve those things. He deserves good things. He’s not sure he’ll ever deserve Michelle. But he’ll try his best. She brings her hands to his neck, tilting his jaw with her fingers to slide her tongue into his mouth as she rolls her hips over him. No, there’s no way he’ll ever deserve someone like her - but God he has to try. 

He moves his hands to her hips to guide her harder, faster - whatever it is that makes her whine from the back of her throat. That makes her voice lower. That makes her pull on his hair. That makes her, “ _Peter_ -” say his name like that. 

Wrapping one arm around her hips so he can match her thrusts, the other one buries in the hair at the back of her neck. He looks at her and it’s too much - he has to tell her. His timing could be better because as he finally slips out that he really likes her, she comes hard - shaking against him and it’s all he needs to send him over the edge a second time. 

She collapses into his hold, breathing heavily against his neck - making no signs that she heard what he said. Though he can’t be that mad about it when she runs her fingers down the back of his neck - kissing his neck lightly. 

“I need to go pee.” She says softly and he laughs at how blunt she is but pulls her closer. He’s softening in her, and he is so spent from the evening's activities that he could sleep sitting up - but she’s warm, and a little sweaty and he’s so in love with her. 

Reluctantly he lets her go - but she’s not gone for long and he holds the cover back for her, laughing while she runs across the floor. 

“You’re adorable.” He says as she lays against his chest.

“How about now?” She says pressing her ice-cold feet against his shins. He flinches but lets her leave them there. 

“Always.” 

“Night, Pete - don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“I don’t have bed - oh shh.” He finds that her sleepy laugh might be his favourite sound of all time. “Goodnight, Em.” As her breathing levels out he allows himself to sink into sleep - but just as he does she says quietly,

“I have to move or cancel our um -” she says uncharacteristically shy and he wants to help her out. 

“Appointment?” Is not the word he meant to say and he really should have just let her figure it out herself.

“I have a work thing - like a stupid get dressed up and sit around while bosses kiss their bosses assess kinda work thing.” She says around a yawn. 

“But you can’t not show?” 

“Mmmm. Do - would you come with me?” He chooses to believe she means as a date and not as an escort. That’s what she means… he could ask. But he’s in way over his head and he needs to think about it for a second. Well, what he actually needs is to talk to May and or Ned. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

He feels her smile against his chest as they fall asleep together. And he can’t remember the last time he was this truly happy. Sure last week was just as nice but he’s never spoken this deeply with anyone before. Sex with her was amazing last week, was amazing this week and would be amazing if he ever got the chance to do it again. 

But just being with her - it’s everything. 

Not to the criminals of New York who cannot help but try and rob, a deli at six am on a Thursday morning. He slips out of bed, trying not to wake her - knowing she has to get up at seven to head back to get ready for work. He leaves a note on the fridge as he flings himself from his window cursing people who cannot keep their crimes to respectful daytime hours. 

When he swings back to his apartment having successfully saved the deli owner thousands in stolen meats (truly why are hams so expensive?) he notes it’s past seven and he’s disappointed he missed her this morning. He wants to know what she’s like when she wakes up - will she battle him for the shower? Will she say five more minutes and curl into his chest? Will she want eggs? 

He contemplates this when he lifts his back bedroom window open - stumbling over the boxes he always says he’s going to move and doesn’t. He whips his mask off, not noticing the smell of coffee that lingers in the apartment because he’s too bummed he missed Michelle.

He gets to see her tomorrow night though - thank you for the random work event that she doesn’t want to attend alone. He all but skips to the shower - skidding to a halt when he sees her standing in the hallway braced with a saucepan and a rolled-up newspaper. She lowers them when she sees his face and he gets ready for her to scream. 

“Huh, so that’s how you got the arms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: child death mentions (siblings)


	4. there's more than dollar signs in you

As she lounges against the wall nursing a tall glass of sparkling wine she doesn’t care for, avoiding Brad’s gaze she notes that there are three things that she’s sure of.

  1. She’s the furthest thing from stupid. 
  2. Peter Parker is Spider-Man
  3. She’s stupidly in love with him. 



Sure, finding out the person you have unrequited feelings for is also a moonlight vigilante is a lot for one morning. Sure, finding out because you’re running late to work and he sneaks back into his own apartment and you’re still there is not ideal. Sure, him being too shocked to speak and remaining stock-still in his hallway while you gather your things and leave is not how you wanted that conversation to go - not that you’d thought about it at length. 

So here she is, borderline hiding in the corner because she already put herself down for a plus one but she’s not entirely sure he’s not still standing in his hallway. Maybe she should have said she wouldn’t tell anyone - but she was just as shocked as him. Maybe she should have told him it’s okay, that this only makes her like him more - but then she remembers she hasn’t actually told him that either. And she spirals thinking about whether or not this feeling she has for him is replicated - or if he’s just escort of the year. 

As she throws her head back to down the last of the nasty wine she sees him walk past the window looking unreasonably attractive in a different kind of suit that she saw him in yesterday. He looks nervous and his brows are furrowed but she figures that’s a given. 

She’s known at work for her nonchalance and her ability to be stone-faced no matter what antics occur in the office - but the sight of him looking for her makes it impossible to keep the smile spreading across her face. 

When he catches her eye his face softens but he doesn’t look entirely comfortable - she grabs his hand when he’s close enough and turns to take him to a storage cupboard she usually uses to scream at the incompetence of colleagues or the student who is averaging a 30 in her class despite clearly being one of the smartest people she teaches. 

The door clicks shut and it’s not pitch black, but she can only see his silhouette. She knows he can see her just fine - she may or may not have done a lot of Spider-Man research instead of grading class papers. 

“You made it.” She whispers when the door closes. 

“Why are you whispering?” He responds quietly. 

“Oh - I, erm… I read that your senses are heightened when one of them is compromised so I thought -” she’s cut off by him kissing her and she responds immediately slipping her tongue into his mouth as he backs her into a wall - the cupboard is not particularly big. His hands travel to the back of her neck repositioning her mouth to take his tongue deeper in a move that makes her moan loudly. 

“I missed you last night.” He says trailing his lips from her mouth to her neck, biting lightly when he reaches her shoulder. She moves to grind against him, looking for friction where she suddenly desperately needs it - but his hips keep her pinned to the wall. She’d be mad about it if she weren’t deliriously turned on by his erection pressed against her stomach. 

“Peter -” she whines and then scowls as he laughs. He pulls back and kisses her pout before schooling his face to look confused, but he’s not particularly good at hiding his amusement.

“Didn’t you miss me?” He asks moving his hands to ghost over her collarbones, down and over her breasts. She sees the way his eyes darken when he realises she isn’t wearing a bra and she has to clamp her lip down to stop from smiling. She brings her hands over his biceps to his chest to push his suit jacket off, he lets it fall to the floor. 

His hands land on the sides of her ribs, thumbs rubbing lightly over her nipples and she roughly guides him back to her mouth so her moans get caught in his throat and hopefully her colleagues won’t find them. She struggles to care when he grinds against her and pulls her nipples between his fingers. 

His hands move to her shoulders, slipping the thin satin straps of her dress down past her chest - he ducks his head to take her into his mouth and her hands move to his hair - and then she quickly retracts because he’s gelled it and it’s adorable. 

“I did.” She gasps out when his teeth graze her nipple and his hands bring her dress lower. He hums against her in question while he moves down her body.

“I missed you -  _ fuck  _ -” her head snaps back against the wall lightly as Peter licks a stripe over her panties.

“You gotta be quiet, Em.” He says squatting down to help her step out of her dress. He hangs it from a hook on the wall - smoothing it out with his hands. She really loves him. He turns back towards her and freezes like he did in the hall yesterday and she finds herself nervous for the first time. 

“God, you’re something else.” He says eyes raking over her naked, bar the thin lace she likes to call underwear and a pair of strappy heels. She resists the urge to cover herself with her arms. “So fucking beautiful.”

“ _ Pete _ .” His eyes snap to hers as he falls back into a squat in front of her. He wastes no time moving her pants to the side and lapping at her. His tongue dips into her cunt and when it retreats he follows it up with his fingers - curling at the spot she likes. 

“Fuck, Peter.” She has her lips clamped under her teeth to keep from moaning too loudly - the ways he’s finger fucking her and swiping his tongue over her clit suggests he doesn’t care if she gets fired. She’s struggling to care as well when she plays with her nipples to give her hands something to do other than bury in his hair like she wants. 

His free hand snakes up her body to touch her and his eyes flick up to hers when he comes into contact with her hand. Lacing their fingers together she grips his hand tightly while smoothing his thumb back and forth over her breast. It’s strangely comforting. She looks down at him and for a second feels bad because that cannot be a comfortable position - before she remembers he’s literally a superhero she says, 

“Pete -” she gasps and screws her eyes shut when he nods as his nose swipes her clit as his tongue strokes down her folds “- you can’t - that can’t be comfortable.” He kisses her inner thigh - fingers still pumping in and out of her at a mindblowing pace. 

“I’m Spider-Man, MJ.” He says and she notes it’s the first time he’s acknowledged it further than kissing her when she admitted to online stalking him. She knows her next words will play on his mind for the rest of time so she opens her eyes again and he’s looking up at her - chin glistening and she feels nothing but content. 

Lowering her head to kiss the hand that’s half making her feel weightless by toying with her nipple and half tethering her to the ground with his grip in hers. 

“Yeah, I know. Can’t believe my favourite superhero is such a dork.” His answering smile takes her breath away and then he flicks his tongue over her clit which makes her choke out a moan. She needs to be quiet. They need to stay hidden. But she’s been riding the edge for a while and her lip is going to start bruising soon.

_ “Peter, please.”  _ She whines as she screws her eyes shut when he latches his lips to her clit and crooks his fingers and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she comes. 

He’s in front of her when she opens her eyes and it’s her favourite thing. 

“Hi.”

“Hi. I have something to tell you.” He says lightly kissing her and she hums in response while unbuttoning his shirt and biting at his neck.

“Michelle -”

“Go ahead -” she says as she pushes his shirt off his shoulders and works on the button of his slacks. 

“So -  _ oh come on _ .” He moans as she sinks to her knees, pulling his trousers and boxers down. His hands wind into her hair and she’s glad she wore it down - maybe she foresaw this happening. That’s her business. 

She kisses his thighs, kneading her thumbs where he’s most tense. Flicking her gaze up to him she’s pleased to see he already looks wrecked, if she’s getting turned on by the sight of his locked jaw and his thumb stroking her scalp, well that’s just good payoff. 

He looks down at her as she licks from his base to the tip and he groans loudly, pulling her hair a little tighter. She moans as she takes him in her mouth and she smiles when she hears him curse from above her. Bobbing her head she introduces her hand before she notices her knees are not taking kindly to the hard floor of the storage cupboard. 

Peter notices her shift before she can finish moving, lifting her up before the marks can settle into her skin. 

“You’re dangerously good at that.” He says before turning to grab a chair from a stack of more than eight. She makes a mental note to tell Joel about it at work on Monday - he gets a kick out of janitorial issues (despite being the janitor). 

He sits down, slacks and boxers around his ankles, and pulls her over to him. She goes to straddle him and he spins her so when she sits her back is to his chest and her legs are spread on either side of his. 

“I won’t mess your makeup this way, is that okay?” He asks as he moves her panties again and he lines them up. 

“Whatever you want, Tiger.” She says breath hitching as he slowly pulls her onto him. The stretch at this angle is just on the good side of too much and the feel of him everywhere, as his hands move to her breasts is overwhelming. 

“Tiger, huh.” He grunts out when he bottoms out in her. She throws her head back to rest next to his.

“Testing it out.” She replies more breathlessly than snarky but one of his hands moved to tug her hair so he had better access to her neck so she can’t be blamed. As he whispers filthy thoughts into her ear and his hands move back to her hips to guide her along him she realises maybe pet names weren’t the best way to show she liked him. Maybe she could just… tell him. 

But then he rolls his hips to meet hers and she forgets her name let alone whatever she was thinking about. 

“Fuck - you feel so good, babe.” 

“You too.  _ God _ , Peter.”

“Touch yourself for me.” He says with a kiss to her shoulder. She’s not going to deny him anything, not when he fucks her like this. Not when he makes her feel like this. She brings two fingers to his mouth and he moans as he sucks them for her. Moving that hand to her clit and the other to her nipple she flicks and tugs them in the same rhythm. 

“Yeah, just like that. So good - you’re so fucking good, Em.” With his words laced in desire and the feel of her hands, and his punishing pace it’s not long before she back and balancing on the edge.

His hand flies to her mouth and she bites a groan into it as she shakes against him. His other arm comes around her waist, pulling her tighter to him and with a few more pointed thrusts she feels him come with a grunt and he rests his forehead against the back of her neck.

“That was -”

“Yeah.”

She could tell him now. What’s the worst that could happen? Well, he could not say anything back and then she’d either be dateless to this God awful event and would have to listen to Brad all evening tell her she deserves better. Or, he’d stay and she’d have to pretend she was joking or she’d have to own it and have a very awkward dinner date.

She can feel him softening in her so she goes to stand up, wincing slightly at the feel of him pulling out. She needs to go to a bathroom and she needs to check her makeup - but first, she should probably get dressed. Her dress appears next to her as if by magic.

“Thanks, dork.” She replies softly and turns to look at him. She wonders if he likes the look of her half-naked as much as she likes that look on him.

“Em - I have to work tonight.” He says looking down, pretending it’s taking him more than a second to zip up his pants. 

“Spidey? I think this finishes at eleven but I can get you out early.” She says honestly because she spent a lot of the last twenty-four hours trying to determine if she wanted to start something with someone who is always on call. As if she even knows if he wants that with her. 

“No - like, the paid job.” And the look on his face acts as though someone has thrown ice water over her. Of course, he’s here as her escort. Of course, he’s not interested in dating her. Fuck, she’s so stupid. 

“Oh - yeah.” God, she’s an idiot - why would she think this was a date? “Sorry, how much is it?” She asks biting down on her lip to keep it from trembling. Not that it would matter - he hasn’t looked at her since she turned around. She feels nasty now - stepping into her dress on slightly shaky legs. She doesn’t feel sexy like she did minutes ago. She feels like the first night and she should have known.

“It’s already paid.” He says, gaze flicking to her. Paid by who? Did Cindy do that in advance? 

“By Liz.” He whispers. Why would she pay for him? How does she even know she’s using an escort service? It would make more sense if she was - 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, MJ. I tried to text you earlier and then I remembered I still haven’t gathered up the fucking courage to ask for your number - and then they called and it was an emergency and. I really really want to be here with you. I’m so sorry.” And he looks it. Not for the first time she thinks it’s genuine and not like he’s trying to make employee of the month. But she’s still gonna have to sit alone with an empty plus one and Liz is going to get  _ him .  _

“Okay.” She says with a tight smile but then she remembers she has to sit alone while the guy she’s in love with and the guy who definitely just fucked her at her workplace, sits with someone else. She’s thought about his employment at length - she’d never ask him to stop if this is something he enjoys, something he’s clearly good at - she couldn’t ask him to stop. She just never thought she’d have to see it. “You could have told me before you fucked me though.” 

“Em -”

“Have fun, Parker.” She says and all but runs to the bathroom across the hall. She feels stupid, and a little dirty but mostly she’s just sad.

She tells herself not to look for them and she did a pretty good job as she talked to coworkers through the cocktail hour but now she’s sitting at her table with an empty seat to her right and Peter as Liz’s date to her left. It’s not ideal. It’s not that she thinks she couldn’t hide the fact that she cares - but there’s something about the way he is with her. Confident and assured and nothing like he is with her. Maybe that’s a good thing - she’s not sure. 

It’s clear from the second they’re sat down that Liz is trying to make someone jealous - she’s unsure who - if she had to guess it's the guy with his tongue in someone else's ear two seats away on her right.

“Luke, baby, can you get me a drink?” She sees Liz ask as she drapes herself over his arm and flutters her lashes - it’s a lot but it really works for her. Michelle wonders if Liz can smell her on his mouth when she’s that close. If she can tell his tongue was inside her just down the hall. If she can hear the way he praised her as she moved on top of him.

“Er, yeah,” Peter responds with only half the confidence she saw him have earlier - maybe it’s the close proximity to another client. Is his name actually Peter, or did she get a fake name too? She finds it hurts to think about so she doesn’t. She tries not to anyway. She texts her mum back at the table instead of engaging in conversation which she knows is rude, but her mum has been asking for updates on her date and she finds if she leaves it too long she’ll feel bad lying to her. 

Peter returns with a tray with at least eight drinks on and she stifles down a laugh at his concerned expression. She knows he won’t drop it. He knows he won’t drop it. No one else does. She likes that.

“Sorry -” he says to her and then whips his head round to Liz “- line is long, so.” He hands Liz two glasses of the sparkling stuff that made her nose burn, and then places six short glasses with a clear liquid in - she assumes a vodka tonic - on his placemat. She assumed from research that he would need more alcohol to get drunk but this seems extreme and not at all like he’s trying to hide it. 

When he sits down, he slowly moves one of the glasses into her space. She takes it with a roll of her eyes. He slides another over and when she looks at him in her peripheral vision he’s biting back a smile. 

When starters roll around and she’s successfully caught Peter looking at her a million times, she’s feeling better about this whole event. Soup and a single bread roll are placed in front of them and she can hardly restrain an eye roll - surely a bread basket is just good manners? She eats her roll before anyone else has picked up there’s and then she’s filled with instant regret. Looking around she sees Liz mirror her disappointment.

“Luke, baby, are you going to eat your roll?” She says like butter wouldn’t melt. She knows it works for her - and she’s unfairly upset Peter will have to go along with it. 

“Yeah.” He says with a smile as he picks his roll up and Liz sends a tight smile back before going back to her phone. As she looks down, Peter wordlessly places the roll on MJ’s plate. She smiles into her hands and lets her ankle press against his. Clearing her throat subtly she butters the roll, breaks it in half and slides it back to him. His hand meets her half way and if their fingers linger against each other no one mentions it. 

Peter drops a napkin just after the plates are cleared and then makes a massive show of picking it up, which makes Liz give him a look and makes Michelle laugh. As he leans towards her to pick up his discarded napkin, he grabs the leg of her chair and pulls her closer to him. She smiles at the table refusing to meet his eye but she knows he can see it. 

The waiter brings the main course round and she’s ravenous for various reasons that have nothing to do with her session with Peter - and she’s been thinking about this meal for forty-five minutes and she doesn’t even know what it is. She smiles as the waiter places her vegetable lasagna in front of her - and she bites back a laugh when she sees Peter’s face fall at his salad. 

“We’re on that diet, baby,” Liz says loudly. Michelle feels bad because she knows he was out being Spider-Man this afternoon and she knows he definitely worked up an appetite in the storage cupboard. And she may or may not want to revisit that after dessert. So she waits for Liz to become engrossed in conversation with the guy she’s pretty sure Peter is here for - and then she pulls Peter’s plate closer - and places half of her lasagna on it - she does take most of his cucumber in return. She slides it back over and she can feel his face lighting up and she can’t look at him, because she’ll do something stupid. He eats the whole thing before Liz speaks to him again and then he eats Michelle’s leftovers as well. She does look at him that time - it’s worth fighting the urge to kiss him to see him smile. 

By the time dessert comes she’s frustrated that she can’t touch him. She’s annoyed she hasn’t just told him at some point that she likes him. The waiter placing tiramisu in front of her does make her feel slightly better.

“Oh my, God.” She says when she takes her first bite and she catches Peter fidget in his chair. She’d read about his enhanced hearing for sure - she just didn’t know how enhanced. Can he hear her heartbeat? Can he hear her panting softly when she rides him? Interesting. She takes another spoonful, flips it over and pulls it slowly over her tongue - he shifts his legs and balls his fists on his thighs. She moans lowly and looks him in the eye. 

“You okay?” She whispers. He huffs out a laugh as she strokes his leg with her foot. 

“Stop.” He says quietly but his eyes are full of a lust she’s come to enjoy. She smiles at him and he dips his head to the table.

“Kinda wanna fuck you again.” And his eyes snap to hers as she smiles innocently at him. He takes his jacket off feigning being hot - but he drapes it over his lap. 

Picking up her bag and taking her phone out, she puts it up to her ear and as she moves her chair out whispering, “bathroom second floor.” He’ll have heard her - and her heartbeats in anticipation as she nears the elevator. She doesn’t want to look back - she just hopes she’ll see him there soon. 

She doesn’t have to wait long until she hears footsteps and she wonders what his excuse was but all thoughts leave her brain the second the doorknob moves. The door opens and he walks towards her with purpose - lifting her by her waist the second he can, perching her bum on the ledge as he dips his tongue into her mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He says wasting no time in bunching her dress around her hips. She hums against his lips. “What do you want?” He asks, moving his head to kiss at her neck.

“I want you to fuck me like you’re mine.” She’s not sure where the possessiveness comes from and she feels nervous about it the second it leaves her mouth. But he’s there in an instant, running his hands up her body, over her chest and to her neck. 

“I am -” he breathes down her throat, “- I am yours.” One of his hands snakes back down her body and he pulls at her panties roughly and she feels him tense under her hands. She figures out why a second later when the scraps of lace she was wearing fall to the floor without her having to move. 

“Well.” She says breathlessly and nowhere near as serious as she was anticipating. 

“Sorry.” He replies without sounding at all sorry, but he licks against her lips so she forgives him. “I’ll make it up to you.” His fingers fumble against her for a second before she remembers they’re not supposed to be missing and she pushes against his chest and tells him to get a condom. If she weren’t so turned on, him wrestling with the condom with slippery fingers would be amusing but then he rolls it on himself and his eyes don’t leave hers and she'd struggle to laugh if someone paid her.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he lines up with her entrance as if she hasn’t had her legs spread for him ever since he came in. She pulls him by the back of his neck and his hands go to her hips. The feel of him sinking into her is delirious and his moans against her mouth are delicious. She has the overwhelming need to tell him everything when they’re this close. When she can see his eyes fluttering to stay open when his entire body is telling him to close them. 

When he’s fully in he stops, giving her body time to accommodate him. She feels completely full but she needs more, she needs him to move. So she kisses him slowly, hands getting caught in the base of his hair - it’s almost the end of the night so she figures it’s fine. When her tongue touches his he starts to lightly thrust and she throws her legs around his body. 

She hears him say her name over and over again and all she can think about is how badly she never wants this to end. She wants him all the time. 

“Peter -” she starts but then his hands move up her back and she bites his lip as her chest brushes against his. His strokes are deep and slow and for the first time she doesn’t think they’re fully matched in effort but she did do most of the work earlier so maybe she gets a pass. She does slip a hand between their bodies to play with her clit, never let it be said she’s not a team player.

“Perfect - you’re perfect.” He says breathlessly as he moves some hair from her face. His hand goes from her ear to the back of her neck as he titles her head so he can bite at her neck. His other hand goes to pull her knee against him and the deeper angle has her clenching around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She moans out as his thrusts become erratic and she knows this is nearing the end for both of them. She rubs at herself with no discernible pattern but it works. She knows the courage to tell him will go when she leaves this high, so it’s now or never.

“Peter-” she says between pants, “- I really like you.” Sure, she could have picked a better time to say it rather than just before she comes with a moan against his neck - but he’s close behind her. Pulling her impossibly closer and she feels the swell of him deep inside her as she works through her come down. 

There’s an ache that she might regret when she goes to sit down again, but Peter’s still lightly thrusting into her and she can barely think about anything other than how good he feels. How good he makes her feel. 

“You’re amazing.” He says as he pulls out of her slowly and pulls her legs closer together. When he moves away to discard the condom she feels herself getting fidgety. There’s no way he didn’t hear her - which means he’s avoiding talking about it, which is fine. She knew he might not feel the same. He might not think of her at all outside this job. Which ends today - or ended yesterday. Because he’s here today with someone else. 

She jumps off the side onto shaky legs but as always, Peter’s right there to hold her up. 

“Thanks.” She says smoothing her dress down, looking for her underwear before remembering Peter tore them. “Should probably get back to the table - you can go first.” He doesn't move, he just looks at her in a way that makes her feel completely seen. 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” She asks because she’s really fucking nervous.

“Em.” He replies with clear desperation in his voice. 

“Yeah -” she swallows her instinct to be snarky and run, “- I meant it.” He smiles broadly at her and she feels herself mirror the expression. 

“Dork.” She says but she gives him her hand when he reaches for it. 

“I really like you too.” He whispers, pulling her closer to him. The struggle to kiss him because she’s smiling too wide is a struggle she’s glad to have. 

“Go, I’ll be right behind you.” She says pressing her lips to his again. He walks towards the door keeping her hand in his, he squeezes her fingers as he goes to walk into the corridor turning back quickly to give her a dopey smile. She watches him go as the door slowly closes - and she swears she sees him skip down the hallway.

She bites her lip to keep herself from smiling to no one in the bathroom but she can only hold out so long. If anyone ever asked if she did a small spin in the bathroom she will deny it. Her happiness is put on hold quicker than she would like when the fire alarm goes off. Dinner is complete - so they can’t have burnt anything but then she remembers how stressful these events can be and assumes that someone lit up in the bathroom. 

Running into a cubicle to quickly pee and wipe away any evidence of being fucked in the work bathroom, she checks her makeup in her phone reflection - it’ll do. She walks quickly to the nearest fire exit knowing in her heart that Peter will be helping people get to safety - though she can’t see or smell any smoke. He’s not going to stay out the building without knowing everyone is accounted for.

When she steps into the night air - she goes to stand on the opposite side of the road so she can see when he leaves. So she can know he’s safe. From here she can see smoke and the nerves tighten in her stomach - it doesn’t look awful and she knows Peter deals with worse than this on an almost daily basis but her heart won’t settle. 

People are pouring out the building and she hopes he comes with them - she sees Liz and her possible ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. Where is Peter? The streams of people turn to just a few and then no one else leaves for a minute or so. She’s sweating despite the cold temperature and the chill that should be set in her bones is nowhere near the forefront of her mind. 

She thought about how it would be to date Spider-Man - whether or not she could deal with the constant worry of whether he’s injured, whether he’ll have to leave, whether he’s alive. But she made a decision that while he protects the city - someone needs to protect him and she wants it to be her. She’d rather be with him than wonder what if. 

He could give up Spider-Man and be hit by a bus tomorrow. He could be Spider-Man into his sixties and retire. She has no way of knowing - but she wants to be there with him if he’ll let her. 

She lets out a deep breath when she sees him jogging towards the front of the building carrying someone who hurt their knee. She watches him with pride when he hands them to a paramedic and his eyes are darting around the crowd of people gathered outside - he’s looking for her. 

When he sees her his hand flies to his chest and the relief radiating off him is obvious from across the street. But when he goes to move, Liz throws her arms around him in a theatrical display. 

“Luke, oh my God, baby! I’m so glad you’re okay.” She says until he gingerly wraps his arms around her.

Michelle can deal with being the woman that waits for Spider-Man, but she won’t be the other woman. She spent just as long trying to figure out what she’d want from him if escorting was something he wanted to continue - and she figured there was no good way to ask without it sounding like she wanted him to quit. She’d never want to change him, knowing it’s selfish to go into a relationship knowing there’s something you would like to be different. She knew who he was when she fell in love with him. It’s not his fault she can’t deal with it.

So she smiles at him, turns and walks away. 


	5. i'm free for you

His heart is thumping so violently in his chest he’s surprised Liz hasn’t called him out on it. When the alarm went off all he could think about was Michelle. She hadn’t made it back to the hall yet - but that wasn’t surprising. So when he followed the same route she had taken earlier, he expected to be able to find her but he couldn’t see her at all. He screamed her name, he looked everywhere - bathroom stalls, random cupboards and he couldn’t _find_ her. 

Chancing another look in the hall he found someone who hurt their leg - and cursed himself for being selfish when he thought he needed to find Michelle instead of helping. So he quickly helped the person up and if he asked them frantically if they'd seen anyone else while they were here - well that's just good planning. Reasonably he should have known she’d be fine. There wasn’t a fire on their floor and she’s a grown-up - she’d be fine. But the terror that settled deep into his bones the second she wasn’t in his eye line, has had his heart racing ever since his senses alerted him to danger. If he’d just gone to this stupid event with her - if he’d just said no to work. If he’d chosen her in the way he wanted too. He wouldn't be terrified of losing her, she'd be with him. 

Giving the injured person to medics, he forgets to feel bad that he wasn’t one hundred percent focused on them because he still can't see her. He’s always very attentive as Spider-Man, and while he is at this event as Peter Parker, they are one and the same. But he’s luckily never had someone he cares so deeply about be near danger. He’s not entirely sure he’s cut out for it. Knowing that if he started a relationship in the way he desperately wants with Michelle, there’s no knowing whether she’ll get caught up in it. It has to be her choice, and he’d never blame her either way. 

His eyes flit around the hundreds of people outside and he tries his best to lessen his heart rate so he can focus his senses on finding her. Listening for the heartbeat that he’s become attuned to, the strawberry smell of her hair, the sweet smell of her skin. He panics when he can't immediately settle himself because there's too much going on, and there's so much terror running around his mind. But then there she is. He finds her with his eyes first - leaning against a streetlamp, bathed in a warm yellow glow. His smile stretches across his face at how lovely she is.

His relief is palpable when he sees her looking at him from across the street. He thinks she mirrors his expression. God, she’s beautiful. She smiles at him with her lip between her teeth and he’s about to scream that he’s in love with her. That she’s his favourite thing. But someone throws their arms around him and is hysterically crying that Luke is alright. Who the fuck is Luke?

“Luke, oh my God, baby!” Is he Luke? “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Fuck. He wraps his arms around her as he remembers he only has like ten minutes left of this job and then he can leave. He looks over to Michelle and she smiles at him but it looks sad and then she leaves and his heart cracks. 

“Erm, I need -” he says to Liz trying to get out of her grip slyly. He doesn’t want to embarrass her, he also wants to go after Michelle and one of those things is winning out right now. 

“You’ll have to tell her you're an escort.” She says moving away from him, but it’s not unkind.

“Huh?”

“Michelle. If you want to ask her out, she values honesty over anything else.” He’s about to tell her he doesn’t know what she’s on about but clearly, she does. 

“She won’t judge you for it. I’m not sure if she’ll say yes though, she’s pretty hung up on this guy.” Liz continues. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She talks about him all the time. So you have some competition. But she looked like she liked you at dinner.” She says with a sly grin and he feels awful. 

“I’m so sorry -” he starts.

“Don’t worry about it. You looked smitten with her the second she sat down. I thought you might have slipped an engagement ring in the roll.”

“Sorry.” He says honestly. Because it is a dick move to say yes to an event and then not so subtly flirt with someone else. “I’ll make sure they refund you.”

“Thanks.” She says with a smile, “what are you still doing here?”

“Right, bye!” He says and runs in the direction he saw her leaving in. He grabs his phone and shoots off an email to his boss that gives his notice period. He’s not sad to leave - he’s unquestionably grateful that this job brought him to Michelle but there’s no lingering sadness that he’s leaving. 

Rounding the corner he can’t see her and half of him hopes she took a taxi home because it’s dark and it’s cold and then the other half remembers he has no idea where she lives or what her number is.

“Fuck. Think, think.” He darts into the alleyway nearest the event building where he stashed his Spider-Man suit behind a dumpster earlier. He’s not entirely sure what his plan is, but looking for her from the rooftops seems easier than on foot. Halfway into the suit, he figures that she might not have left because he was an escort - maybe the thought of his being Spider-Man was too much. He swallows that thought down and yanks his mask over his head - stowing the suit in his backpack and hoisting it onto his back. 

It’s not easier from the rooftops. It’s not at all easier when he has no idea where she could be. He swings in the vague direction of Joe’s Pizza place because she’s gotta live around there right? With the number of times she’s spoken about it, she may as well live there. God, why didn’t he get her number? He could ask his boss for it but it’s about one hundred different HR violations and he did just quit so. 

He swings low enough to listen for her, but not low enough to get hit by a bus - not again.

He's not entirely sure what he's supposed to do if he can't find her. He could turn up to her work? Is that cute or creepy? Turns out he doesn't need to think about it.

The traffic stops ahead of him and he watches a taxi door swing open and she steps out looking straight at him. He fumbles his next swing but manages to send another web out in time to perch on a street lamp. She walks with a spring in her step to the sidewalk he’s hovering over - she might be excited, she might be trying to avoid being hit by a car. The headlights shine through her curls and glint off the material of her dress and she looks otherworldly. 

She stands away from him, lip between her teeth as always and she has her coat perched on her arm. She raises her eyebrow at him when she’s on his side and he hasn’t done anything and he beams at her. He puts his arm up to signal he’s going to swing again - no one else cares at this point which he’s thankful for. But she cares, and that’s all that matters. She nods at him and pulls her coat on and then he swings down and on the arch back up she’s in his arms and definitely not screaming. 

“Oh my God, I’m just -” she repositions her arms, it wouldn't matter if she let go, he’s got her, “- I’m just not gonna look.” He swings for a few minutes because he’s looking for a secluded rooftop but also because every time he swoops down she buries her head into his neck. 

He lands and wraps his arms around her instead of putting her down - just in case. 

“Are you okay?” She asks him first as she moves to unlock her legs from his body. 

“Yeah, are you?” He asks moving hair from her face. 

“Mmm, but I’m not off to fight some hideous crime.” She says without moving away from him. He pulls his mask off. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Spidey.” 

“I’m not on duty, I just - you left and I couldn’t find you -" she looks mildly confused as him so he continues, "-MJ, I’m just gonna say it all and then -” he gulps when she threads her hands through his hair, “- you can decide whatever, okay? I won’t hold it against you.” He whispers. 

“Okay.” She whispers back.

“I want -” his eyes flick over her face, “- you. I want to talk to you all of the time. I want to go on dates with you. I want to pick you up from work and have dinner with you. I want -” he grips her waist tighter, “- I want you to meet May. I want to meet your family. I want everything with you.”

“Peter -”

“I quit -” he shakes his head, “- being an escort I mean. I can’t give up the suit and if that’s too much for you it’s okay, I-”

“You can’t leave your job for me, Pete.” 

“That is so low on the list of things I’d do for you, Michelle. It’s not -” he brings her closer because he felt her shiver and because he misses her, “- I’d do anything for you. And honestly, the job is more for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You haven’t asked me to do anything, MJ. I’m doing it because I wouldn’t feel comfortable being with other people - it’s why I haven’t said yes to any other appointments since I first saw you. Premature? Probably but I’ve never met anyone like you, so I had to try.” 

“You’re a dork,” she says but she looks as happy as he feels. 

“A dork you want to date?”

“I’m in love with you, so yeah.”

“You are?” His heart has never been this full. He’s never felt this kind of elation before. She hums against his lips and his hands move to the back of her neck. She slips her tongue in his mouth and when his dick twitches he remembers he’s still in the Spider-Man suit and he needs to keep her safe. 

So he pulls away and his heart bursts when she pouts at him, “I love you. I’m so stupidly in love with you, MJ.”

“Take me home.” She whispers into his ear and he’s never going to be able to deny her anything. 

* * *

So swinging between buildings is going to take some getting used to. But the thrill of being wrapped around his body, knowing he’s strong enough to propel them through the air but is still so soft with her, makes her smile into his neck. 

She much prefers him kissing along the back of her neck while she attempts to open her front door, though.

“Peter, stop distracting me of my neighbours are gonna know I’m fucking Spider-Man.” She whispers, internally grateful she lives on the top floor.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” He says moving her hair to nip at her earlobe, “here I thought I was the only one doing something.” He says and she knows he's smirking behind her. Throwing the door open she pulls him inside and immediately pushes him against the door. 

“You don’t seem to be put out by it,” she says against his lips as she palms his erection through his suit. He groans and pulls her lips to his. The kiss is deep, it’s hot, it’s everything she wants from him right now. She’s surprised she wants him as badly as she does as he pushes her coat off - he moves from her to hang it on a hook and she bites her lip hard to keep from giggling at him. 

“What?” He says with a pout, “You folded your clothes the first day so I assume you take care of your things.”

“You’re adorable and I don’t know how you remember that.” She replies, lacing her arms behind his neck when he comes back to her. 

“I remember a distracting amount of things about you.” He says as he peppers kisses along her collarbone, his hands trailing lightly over her shoulders and down over her chest. His thumbs brush back and forth over her nipples and she arches into, “like that.”

“Bedroom.” She breathes out.

“Bossy.” He says but he picks her up anyway. “Nice place,” he remarks as he walks her through the living room and into her office. 

“The other one.” She says as she marks his neck. He places her on her desk anyway. Before she can tell him not to mess her desk up, or that her laptop is definitely somewhere under a pile of papers - he presses the spider emblem on his suit and it bags away as he lets it fall to the ground. She must have a look on her face because he asks her what’s wrong. 

“It’s unreasonable for you to have a body like that but for the suit to look that ridiculous when it comes off.”

“You’re mean.” He says standing between her legs and slipping the straps of her dress down.

“Sorry.” She replies leaning back on her hands, revelling in the ways his eyes darken. He swallows thickly and repositions his dick in his boxers.

“What were we talking about?” He asks with a deepness to his voice that makes her thighs clench. She notes he hasn’t moved his hand. 

“I wanna watch you.” She says when he leans towards her, she kisses him softly, “touch yourself for me.”

“ _ Fuck _ , MJ.” He groans against her lips but when he pulls back he’s naked. It’s insanely thrilling to have him flushed and tensed slowly thrusting through his hand in front of her. His eyes flicker closed as her hands smooth up his chest to pull his lips back to hers.

He moans against her tongue as she dips hers in and out of his mouth. She lifts herself slightly so she can pull her dress over her head, and manoeuvres so she’s perched at the edge of the desk. She’s so close to him that when she drops a hand to slide through her wetness and circle her clit, her knuckles hit his hand. 

His eyes shoot open and his free hand grasps the back of her head, pulling her into a filthy kiss. 

“You’re so fucking hot. Does it feel good?” He asks, voice low, just as she slips a finger into her cunt and she moans loudly down his throat. 

“Em, fuck you’re so good, so good -” she can barely respond past just panting into his mouth. He tilts her head and the kiss deepens, all tongue and teeth. His hand knocks hers and he pumps himself and she misses the way his fingers feel on her. Misses the way he feels in her hand.

“Peter -” she whines in question as his chest brushes hers.

“Anything. You can have anything. Just tell me,  _ fuck  _ \- I’ll give you whatever you want.” He replies and there’s a desperation to his voice that almost sends her over the edge. But she wants him to do it. So she slides her fingers out of herself and wraps them over the head of his dick. 

“Touch me.” His fingers stretch her in a better way, hitting an angle she can’t reach with her own hand.

“I love you - you feel, God, Em.” His fingers are pistoning in and out of her and his thumb is rubbing against her clit and it’s overwhelming in the best way. She’s not sure her rhythm on his dick is anything to write home about but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I’m so close.” He groans. So she tightens her grip and runs her thumb over this tip until his hips thrust out of rhythm and he’s finishing over her hand. 

“Sorry.” He says with a kiss and she wipes her hand on her thigh and then brings her fingers to her mouth to lick them clean. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He says increasing the pressure on her clit.

“It'll be a good one.” She replies breathlessly. 

“The best.” He says as she comes clutching onto his wrist. “You’re the best.” He repeats as he kisses her temple. She buries her head in the crook of his neck as she rides out her orgasm, his fingers still deep inside her. 

She wants to stay here with him forever. But there’s a pleasant ache between her legs and there’s cum on her wrist and almost definitely on Peter and she needs to clean up. But she has her forehead resting on his chest as he slides his fingers out of her and she really doesn’t want to leave.

“Can I run you a bath?” He asks quietly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She moves back to smile at him, “please.” He pulls her legs around his waist and walks her to the bathroom, only going the wrong way once. He sits on the toilet seat with her around him while the bathtub fills up and he pours in the bath salts when she asks.

“Are your senses overwhelmed or can you join me?” 

* * *

Her tub is on the small side for two grown people but they make it work. Her back to his chest as he lays as deep as he can go without spilling water over the side. Her toes are lightly flicking water at the other end of the bath and both of her hands are playing with one of his and he’s so in love with her.

He wants to tell her everything that he hasn’t already. He wants to know her opinions on things from current world affairs to which pasta is best. He feels so safe with her like he’d never have to ask her not to tell someone about his identity because he just knows she won't. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says cupping his hand with water to pour it over the spot on her shoulder that isn’t submerged. 

“Mmhmmm.”

“If I call you my girlfriend is that okay?” 

“Yeah.” She says uncharacteristically shyly and he can see her smile in the reflection of the bathwater, so he kisses the back of her head. 

“You can call me your boyfriend if you like.” She laughs at him and spins around in the tub. He’s too enamoured with the way her body shines soaking wet to appreciate the fact she didn’t spill any water. She places her hands to the sides of his ribcage and rests her head on his bicep.

“Can I, now?”

“Please.” He responds, tracing her spine with her fingertips. She kisses his chest and looks up at him, “I love you.”

“I love you back.”

There’s a short period where he thinks she might have fallen asleep, and he pulls the bath plug out slightly with his toes and then adds more hot water. She can charge him for the water bill if she likes. 

“As my boyfriend, do you wanna get lunch with me tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” He says first because he does want that, and then he swallows because he's nervous and he’s unsure why. She knows everything important about him and she hasn’t run. They’ve told each other they’re in love. He’s pretty sure he’ll ask her to move it together before sunrise. But this question brings the most important people to him, together. She might not be ready to meet his family but he’s desperate for her too.

“Cool. You should invite May as well if you want.” She adds on before he can ask as if she can read his mind. 

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“She raised you, so I’m excited.” He swallows down the emotions that threaten to bubble over but he thinks she knows anyway. 

“Good idea -” he starts attempting to be casual and definitely failing, “- then I can tell both of you about the interview I have next week.” Her eyes light up at him and all he wants to do for the rest of his life is make her happy. 

He tells her all about the interview, and what his five-year plan is while he rubs her expensive-looking body wash over her back and along her shoulders. He laughs and tells her he only thought about his five-year plan recently, when he met her, as he badly shampoos her hair. He lets her pull his hair into a soapy mohawk because her laugh is his favourite sound. He tells her he's in love with her when she gives him her fluffy robe. He tells her again when he rubs lotion in her back. He tells her again when she rides him slowly as the sun comes up.

He’s never understood how love works. How sometimes it’s slow and soft and one day you just know. He’s read how it can be love at first sight. He’s seen it happen in movies. He just didn’t know it could feel like this. This terrifying and freeing and just, delightful. But as he looks at her, with her eyes dancing with joy and her arms wrapped as far around him as she can get, he finds it doesn’t matter how it happened. Just that it did.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly? no one knows
> 
> come say hi on tumblr: @i-lovethatforme


End file.
